Something More Than Nothing
by CE Winters
Summary: Every great love story has its conflict. It isn't as easy as Blaine simply realizing his feelings for Kurt. No, he'll have to battle for Kurt's affections with an all-star opponent who is more than ready to take on the challenge.  Non-canon after AVGC.
1. Chapter 1 :: Lima's Romeo

_A/N: Welcome everyone! CE Winters here, thanks so much for clicking into this story :) I thought I'd give a little bit more thorough of a summary than the other would allow before we launch into the story!_

**Rating**_: M - This is for language, mild to medium (teetering on high much later on) sexual material, as well as sensitive subject matter. Warning you exactly what that last one is would give it away, I'm sorry :)_

**Summary**_: This is a story of Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson, two boys stuck in Ohio where life is less than easy and Madam Justice isn't always so just. The fate of their relationship won't depend solely on gathering the courage needed to face their own feelings...that would be much too easy. Blaine must battle for Kurt's affections with a competent and experienced foe, not to mention the battles he has to wage for his own sake. Kurt must face a tough decision, with many factors weighing in. In the end, it isn't just about how he feels. There are much bigger and more dangerous powers at play._

_This story strays from Glee canon after A Very Glee Christmas. From there on, some things will be the same but most will not be. I've talked enough, I'll let you get started! _

_Enjoy! :)_

* * *

ONE:

Kurt sat on his bed, drumming his nails softly against the chic covering. He was contemplating, because as much as he'd begun to hate being at McKinley, his time at Dalton hadn't been exactly what he'd expected. The boys there were kind to him and his days were blessedly death-threat free, but the private school lacked a little _something _that McKinley had never failed to provide. The teenage boy couldn't put his finger on the 'what' of it, but it was noticeably absent.

Dalton Academy was just so…rigid. Kurt supposed that was the reason that no bullying was able to take effect in the first place, but it certainly stifled the atmosphere. Democracy wasn't the right word for what went on in the New Directions, considering Mr. Schuester's god-awful penchant for making them sing Journey songs, but they were highly encouraged to sing out their feelings. Dalton was just that much different, that much more structured in the way they ran both the Warblers and the entire school. The only time Kurt had gotten the opportunity to sing anything on his own was when he was trying out for a solo part, and he'd been turned down. In retrospect, Kurt wondered if he had even stood a chance.

_Don't try so hard next time_, Blaine had said to him. Kurt understood that there was a hierarchy within the Warblers and he was the new guy; he couldn't jump to the front that quickly, everything took time. But he couldn't help but lament the fact that he'd gone to all that trouble just to be put at the back of the line again. His father and Carole had given up their _honeymoon_ so that Kurt would be safe and comfortable in Dalton, and now he was having doubts if he belonged there. It was ridiculous enough to make him want to simply shake his head and laugh at his own reservations.

Of course he belonged there. Blaine was there, and he was happy about the transfer he'd made. It would just take time, Kurt told himself. At least he had Blaine to talk to now. He never thought that he would be able to find someone like that, someone so similar to him. Kurt could begin to feel his feelings toward Blaine grow even stronger, and he had to desperately try and stifle them. So far, it wasn't working. The confession he'd let slip to Mr. Schuester at Christmastime had been a telling weak point in his poor excuse for hastily set up romantic defenses. He couldn't mess this up, this perfect friendship that was forming. He needed to have Blaine there, always. If it was as a friend only...well, that was better than nothing.

Kurt reached into his drawer and pulled out the framed picture of Blaine that he kept there, with the word 'courage' cut out above it. He'd taken it home after he'd moved his things out of his locker at McKinley. He drew a slender finger across the Warbler's two-dimensional jawline and smiled to himself. His eyelids began to lower peacefully and he could feel the beginnings of a daydream coming on –

Only to be drawn abruptly out of his reverie by the sound of his door swinging open. Hastily, Kurt shoved the picture back into the drawer and slammed it shut before crossing his legs primly and turning toward the intruder.

"Oh, uh…I probably should have knocked," Finn said, looking uncomfortable and running a hand over his neck. "But I didn't see you tonight after dinner, and I was just wondering if something was wrong?"

_Warm milk._ He'd forgotten entirely. "Things are slipping my mind left and right," Kurt exclaimed, hopping to his feet. "Do you want me to –"

"No, Kurt its fine," Finn assured him, waving a hand in dismissal. He shoved his hands in his jean pockets and kicked at a scuff on the floor, silent for a few moments. "Those guys at Dalton aren't giving you a hard time, are they? I can go get Puck and Sam and Mike and we'll go over there and show them a piece of our minds."

"They're all lovely," Kurt answered quickly. "Perfectly mannered gentlemen, the lot of them." _Too _mannered, it would seem. "Though the sentiment is flattering."

"Well…good," Finn mumbled, looking up at the wall. "Because you were ours first, and we'll be the first ones to protect you if anything happens." The quarterback cleared his throat, still lingering at the door; Kurt began to get rightfully suspicious. "Anything else I should know about? Anything at all?"

Kurt raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and crossed his hands on top of his knee. He turned his face to Finn with innocent sweetness and said: "Ah...you want to know if I have a boyfriend over there in gay Hogwarts?"

Finn looked appalled. "No, that wasn't – I mean, I never said that…"

"No, Finn, I don't have a boyfriend. You can go report back to dad and give him the all clear."

The football player looked properly abashed, his face was flushed from neck to forehead. He retreated with a mumbled good-night and Kurt sank back into his pillows with a sigh. He squeezed his eyes clothes and wished that his skin-care routine would magically get itself done so he didn't have to get up and do it himself. It was insane how much more tired you were after four hours of commute a day, broken up only by demanding classes followed immediately by demanding Warblers practice. He wished something would just make Dalton ruffle its feathers, Kurt decided, just once. That would be enough...

* * *

He woke to a ray of sun falling across his eyes: Saturday morning. That meant that he could lounge in bed for as long as he wanted, as he didn't have to make the commute to Dalton. Kurt laced his fingers behind his neck and crossed his ankles, relishing in the ability to do nothing for however long he wanted, until he heard a strange noise coming from his window. His light eyes drifted down to the windowsill, where he saw several pine cones hanging on as if they'd been thrown there.

Suspicion rising, Kurt crept over to the window itself, blanching when he saw who waited outside, two stories below. Hastily, he slid open the sliding glass and tried to calm his racing heartbeat as he observed Blaine's face widen in a smile. "What are you doing?" Kurt hissed, fruitlessly trying to comb his hair back into its usual order with just his hands.

"Can I come up?" The head Warbler asked, trying to keep his voice quiet. Kurt glanced at his wall clock, which read seven o'clock, and he had to stifle a moan. What he really wanted was to go back to sleep, but there was no way he was going to turn Blaine away.

He turned back toward the window shortly and nodded. "I'll come down and let you in through the kitchen."

"Nope, I've got it," Blaine answered quickly. Kurt didn't realize he had his guitar with him until the other boy slung it over his back and walked toward the trellis.

"No, Blaine, bad idea. I don't want to drive you to the hospital." The head Warbler grabbed onto the bottom rung. "They might have termites, you could _hurt_ yourself." Blaine stepped onto the first rung, testing his weight. It held. "Okay, just let go, I'm going down to the kitchen. Just walk in like a normal person." When he turned away from the window and began to hurry to the door, the other boy was already making his way up the wooden ladder.

Kurt had just touched his door handle when he heard the floorboard behind him squeak. "I'm flattered you're so worried about me," Blaine said mischievously, laying a hand across his heart.

"Worried that you'll fall and break open that pretty little head of yours," Kurt defended himself, suddenly very aware that he was still in his silk pajamas. Blaine, on the other hand, appeared sinfully dapper in a soft looking sweater and a scarf falling loose about his neck, to fight back the winter's chill. "Anyways, care to explain why you're here in Lima at the crack of dawn? What Godforsaken time did you have to get up at to already be here?"

"Crack of dawn?" Blaine repeated with a laugh. "The day's practically half over, Kurt." He fiddled with a guitar for a moment, gaze cutting sideways. "But I, uh…wanted to tell you something, actually. About the solo thing –"

"Blaine, we really don't have to talk about that."

"But I really think we do. I hated seeing you so downtrodden, so _crushed_ by what happened with Karofsky." Kurt visibly flinched at the name. "I just didn't want you to feel that uncertainty that I felt after I came; I wanted it all to be different for you."

"That's it?" Kurt asked, incredulously. "Blaine, I don't regret coming to Dalton, you know that. It's different, but...I'll get used to it."

"I know, but that's not all. I didn't want you to think that coming was a mistake, so I talked the council into giving you that try out. I knew they wouldn't let you in, but I did it anyway." The boy shrugged helplessly, his un-gelled curls bouncing slightly. "I couldn't see you leave so soon. You were the first person to come to Dalton who was like…well, like me. Someone who wasn't from some big tycoon family who could afford to send them there. Someone that was there for a real reason." His tongue flicked out briefly, wetting his bottom lip in a distracting fashion before he began to worry it with his teeth.

Kurt stood silent for a moment before allowing a smile to cross his face. "Well…thanks."

"For what?" Blaine asked softly, perfectly triangular eyebrows dipping slightly.

"For being the first person to fight for me before I had to fight for them." If it couldn't be attributed to that morning light which lit everything into strange relief, Kurt would have sworn that he saw a faint pinkness take up residence in Blaine's cheeks. "So, what's the guitar for?"

"Ah, right," Blaine intoned, gratefully jumping to the new subject. He grinned widely, revealing his perfect teeth. "_We_ have a date to make." It was no trick of the morning light when Kurt's face lit up like the fourth of July. "Come on, go get dressed. We can't be late."


	2. Chapter 2 :: All I Ask of You

_A/N: Sorry about the briefness of last chapter. It was just a bit of a lead-in to the rest of the story. This chapter will feature the first song and apart from the next chapter, everyone form here to the end will have at least one song._

TWO:

Blaine waited outside while Kurt quickly got ready. The countertenor slipped on tight fitting black jeans and a low-necked cable knit sweater. He spent several brief seconds contemplating his many scarves before selecting one and grabbing a jacket on his way out.

"Do you want to tell me where we're going?" He asked Blaine quietly as he closed the door to his room, trying not to wake the house's other inhabitants.

"Surprise," Blaine said vaguely, walking to the front door and holding it open fur Kurt.

Kurt just mumbled an acknowledgement before shoving his boots on and walking through the front door, Blaine following shortly.

* * *

Finn stood at the kitchen window, cup of coffee in hand. He gaped in their wake as the two Dalton glee club members walked away from the house and to Blaine's car, which was parked far enough down the street that he hadn't noticed it when it pulled up.

It didn't escape Finn's notice how the curly-haired boy's eyes had lingered on Kurt as he walked ahead of him through the door, or how he was now currently walking pressed up shoulder to shoulder with him.

Kurt might say that he didn't have a boyfriend, but Finn had just witnessed ample behavior that seemed otherwise. From the kitchen, he could see both the front door, which was in the hall past the dining room, and the kitchen door, which led out into the side yard garden. He hadn't seen Blaine come in through either of those doors, though he'd watched him come down the stairs only a moment before.

Suspicion didn't begin to cover it.

His brow furrowed as Kurt climbed into the passenger seat. He wanted Kurt to be happy, he did. They were brothers now, after all. But with that bond of brotherhood came someone else: a fierce need to be the protector. He and Kurt had been through a lot, and he himself had hurt the other boy in a way that no one should have.

Kurt was vulnerable, and Blaine should know that. From what little Kurt said about him around the house, Blaine knew most of what had happened with Karofsky and had even gone to steps to defend him. Finn didn't think he was going to hurt Kurt, at least on purpose. For now.

* * *

"This is the silliest thing I have ever been privy to in my _entire_ life," Kurt said, fiddling with Blaine's scarf, which the other boy had tied around his eyes. "And I went to McKinley, so you know how much that's saying."

"Don't – don't touch," Blaine insisted, grabbing Kurt's hand away from where it had been lifting up the corner of the scarf to free his eyes. He lowered his hand, still holding onto Kurt's, to the center console between them. "For safekeeping…"

"I still have my other hand, you know," Kurt said, his lips widening in a smile. He couldn't see Blaine's reaction but he could imagine the returning grin. "But since you shouldn't be driving with only one hand in the first place, I'll save you the trouble of trying to do so with zero, and just sit here."

"Well, I'm glad you can think of the safety of everyone else on the road." If Kurt had thought that his admission would mean Blaine letting go of his hand, he was quite mistaken. Blaine didn't move to take his hand off of Kurt's. The light-eyed boy hardly dared to breathe for the few moments after Blaine ceased speaking, anticipating the moment that he would move away, but it never came. He was sorely tempted to turn his hand around within the other boy's and lace their fingers together, but fear of his reaction stayed Kurt's hand, literally.

They drove for a few minutes in silence before Blaine gleefully intoned, "We're here!" He finally took his hand away from Kurt's, and Kurt heard the key turn and the engine rumble to a stop. The skin where Blaine's hand had been a moment before seemed cold and exposed, and Kurt quickly brought it back to himself and tucked it under his arm.

"Any time you want to grant me my vision back Mr. Wizard, I would be eternally grateful."

"You never watched Mr. Wizard," Blaine accused, as Kurt heard the sound of a door opening. "That was at least three, four times our lifetimes ago." The second sentence came from his right, after Kurt heard his own passenger door open.

"You're right," Kurt agreed. "I spent my childhood petitioning to play the pink Power Ranger on the playground."

"Your life was _wasted_," Blaine replied dramatically, taking Kurt's arm and guiding him out of the car, still blindfolded. "A Power Rangers fan? I'm disappointed. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were all the rage. But don't worry, you still have time to change loyalties; I'll allow it."

"Oh, you'll allow it?" Kurt repeated, biting his bottom lip to keep his smile from stretching too wide.

Blaine said nothing more, and since Kurt was still cut off from seeing his expression, he felt the weight of his words in the air, clinging on like unfinished business.

They walked forward, Blaine guiding Kurt by his arm. Finally, hearing the loud commotion of other people, Kurt planted his feet in the ground stubbornly. "Alright," he said in a tone of finality. "That's it. I want to be able to see, I want to know where we're going."

Blaine sighed impatiently, but didn't offer a protest. "_Fine_," he said. "We're practically here anyhow." His fingers drifted to the knot at the back of Kurt's head before releasing it and drawing the scarf back to himself.

"_Thank you_," Kurt said indignantly, lightly touching his hair to make sure it all remained in place. He glanced sideways at the other, who was winding the scarf around his neck once more, before looking out at this place Blaine had taken him. Realizing where they were and what exactly was going on, his jaw slowly dropped. "Oh…my…God." He turned to hasten back to the safety of the car but Blaine caught him by his shoulders and directed him toward the assembly.

"No you don't," he said, voice slightly strained at the effort to keep Kurt from running away. "You're staying. _We're_ staying."

"Blaine," Kurt said, placing a hand on top of the one that was covering his shoulder and gently moving it away. "I am not prancing around in some…_gay parade_. Not to mention one that's in Ohio...who get up this early to do these sorts of things anyway?"

"It is not a gay parade," Blaine insisted, ignoring his last question and once again moving toward the crowd. This time, Kurt followed him willingly. "It's a rally for gay rights, very different. I'm sure you heard about it, it was all over the news. If you want to go to a gay parade, we'll have to hop the next flight to San Francisco. Be sure to pack your ass-less chaps." Color rose in Kurt's face, and it didn't fade.

"Well, I'm sorry but I am not marching anywhere in these shoes. They're new Marc Jacobs and I would feed Pavarotti to Sylvester before I endangered them."

For a moment, Blaine appeared sidetracked. "New Marc Jacobs…_Kurt_, when did you go shopping for new Marc Jacobs things? We need to make some sort of pact: neither goes out designer shopping before checking if the other is busy. Alright? Well – _anyways_, we aren't going to be marching anywhere. They needed performers."

Kurt's eyebrow lifted a fraction of an inch. "Performers? Like…I'm going to go sing a solo before the rally? Isn't that kind of…unorthodox?"

"Actually, _we're_ going to sing a _duet_," Blaine corrected. "I know, I hadn't heard if it done before either, but I've been on the lookout for private venue performance slots and they said that they wanted a same-sex duet to sort of…well, push the comfort zone."

"Push the comfort zone?" Asked Kurt, suspicion causing his eyes to narrow. "And that means…?"

"Don't worry," Blaine assured him. "It's in your repertoire, I know it."

It was in his repertoire. Kurt knew that his repertoire was extended but it virtually boiled down to two major subcategories: Gaga and Broadway, and Kurt highly doubted they were about to sing a Lady Gaga song for a gay rights rally.

That meant Broadway, then. If they were supposedly pushing the envelope, that likely meant a male/female duet. His mind flashed back briefly to that day in Warbler Hall not too long ago, when the two had sung "Baby It's Cold Outside". _Too bad they'd never let us sing it together. _Well, now they would be able to.

Blaine pleaded with Kurt silently, soulful eyes wide and pitiable. "Fine," Kurt acquiesced. "You are so lucky you have me."

"Oh, I know," the other Warbler agreed. "No one else would have agreed to this. Like I said, I felt bad about the tryout for the solo. Let's just say that this is a gift; me making it up to you."

"I could think of better presents," Kurt mumbled, realizing the implications of his words only after he said them. He looked over at Blaine too see the other boy observing at him curiously. "I mean…like scarves. I haven't gotten a new Hermès one in at least half a year."

Blaine's unnamable expression turned into one of exasperation. "You have _enough_. It's like a sickness; you're addicted to scarves."

At that moment, a clipboard-clutching woman walked up to the duo. "Blaine Anderson?"

"That's me."

"Great, can you two go on in five?"

"Absolutely," Blaine affirmed with a charming grin. "Thank you for the opportunity."

"No, thanks to you both," she said with a wave. "They'll love it, I'm sure." She began to walk away, but turned in mid-step to add one more thing: "Nice touch with the matching, by the way."

Blaine raised an eyebrow and looked to Kurt, who shifted his gaze sideway, feigning innocence. He hadn't gone out of his _way_ to choose an outfit that matched with what Blaine had already been wearing, but he hadn't wanted to completely clash with him either. Thankfully, Blaine didn't comment on it. He merely shook his head with a small grin and walked over to the stage that had been erected for their singing purposed.

"_And now, welcome to the stage a set of Warblers from Dalton Academy, singing a duet from the classic Broadway musical, The Phantom of the Opera."_

The moment that the words had the man's mouth, Kurt knew what he and Blaine would be singing. Really, it was quite obvious. And Blaine had been right, it _was_ in his repertoire.

"_Make it convincing, guys," _the announcer said as he passed the duo, motioning for an assistant to affix small microphones to their respective collars. _"Get their emotions going for the rally._"

"Will do," Blaine answered before walking confidently out onto the stage, swinging his guitar around to the front of his body. Kurt, on the other hand, had momentarily lost the ability to operate his vocal chords. It was lucky Blaine would be singing first, really. As Blaine strummed the first soft, emotional notes of the duet, Kurt found his inhibitions floating away on the notes of the music.

Briefly, he wondered if the organizers had picked the song or if Blaine had. It seemed to be too relevant for anyone beside the man at his side to have chosen. His mind drifted back to his thoughts the night before, about his conflict over the transfer to Dalton and how thankful he was that Blaine was in his life.

With that last thought drifting through his mind, he heard the voice on his right begin to sing along with his music, which was being complimented by a base tune coming through some rudimentary speaker system.

_No more talk of darkness_

_Forget these wide-eyed fears_

_I'm here, nothing can harm you_

_My words will warm and calm you_

_Let me be your freedom_

_Let daylight dry your tears_

_I'm here, with you, beside you_

_To guard you and to guide you_

An observer would have noted that Kurt looked so enraptured in Blaine's words, there was no possible way that he would remember to sing his own lines, but his countertenor voice soared through the air in the next moment.

_Say you'll love me every waking moment_

_Turn my head with talk of summertime_

_Say you need me with you now and always_

_Promise me that all you say is true_

_That's all I ask of you_

Previously, the two had been standing at least fifteen feet apart. Blaine had walked to center stage before he started singing, while Kurt had remained on the edge. Now, the newest Warbler took several steps forward, to be met by Blaine halfway. The latter held out a hand as he sang his next verse.

_Let me be your shelter_

_Let me be your light_

_You're safe, no one will find you_

_Your fears are far behind you_

Kurt looked straight into Blaine's eyes, attempting to read the message there. The words to the song were hauntingly applicable, and Kurt's heart was currently swollen to three times its normal size, threatening to burst out of his chest. Thinking of his past dilemma at McKinley, the countertenor sung again, the high notes floating out smoothly yet hauntingly into the silent crowd.

_All I want is freedom_

_A world with no more night_

_And you, always beside me_

_To hold me and to hide me_

Kurt moved around to Blaine's other side, on the stage yet still out of the other boys extended reach. Singing like this was partially an act, Kurt knew that. They had to please the audience. But there was also a certain aspect of _self_ that you always brought out when you sang. If you didn't sing from the soul, it didn't work. Kurt knew that every word coming from his lips were also coming from his heart, but even with that thought in mind, he was having trouble believing that the earnestness flowing through Blaine's voice was sincere when next it swelled along with the tune.

_Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime_

_Let me lead you from your solitude_

_Say you need me with you here beside you_

_Anywhere you go, let me go too_

It was as if an electric shock ran through his body when Kurt listened to Blaine's next line. He had been expecting a 'Christine', for a reason that now didn't make any sense, but Blaine had lowered his voice and inclined his head before whispering his line.

_Kurt…that's all I ask of you_

He was practically shocked into paralysis but even that could not completely diminish his professionalism that he always adopted when performing for a group. The next lines came promptly and in tune.

_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime_

_Say the word and I will follow you_

Blaine's smile spread wide as he joined Kurt's voice.

_Share each day with me, each night, each morning_

He paused for Kurt's line,

_Say you love me_

Before answering with his own. Blaine had finally closed the distance between the pair, and he'd grabbed the newer Warbler's hands with his own, bringing them up to his chest.

_You know I do_

Kurt could feel the way his eyes were wide and hopeful as their voices entwined together.

_Love me, that's all I ask of you_

The countertenor knew what came next: the kiss. It was always the kiss. His heart was pounding fiercely in his chest as Blaine smiled at him, that cool collected smile he always wore. He hardly dared to breathe as Blaine's position shifted…away. He'd moved away enough to raise one of Kurt's hands to his lips, which pressed onto it and lingered there for a long moment during the instrumental section of the song, which drifted through the crowd without the assistance of Blaine's guitar. His eyes were boring into Kurt's, who could still hardly move, let alone breathe or do anything else mandatory to sustaining life.

Blaine straightened once more, keeping Kurt's hand within his, and turned out toward the audience. Kurt did the same, understanding the purpose. They had already sung to each other, now they were speaking to everyone else.

_Anywhere you go let me go too_

_Love me, that's all I ask of you_

The music faded, and there was silence in the large audience. Kurt and Blaine stared out over the people, who stood gaping. Worried, Kurt turned his head slightly to look at Blaine, whose face only held anticipation. Just then, one person whistled loudly and broke the reverie that had ensnared the crowd. Cheers and hollers broke out from all corners, and Kurt let out a relieved sigh.

Blaine released his hand and instead threw his arm across Kurt's shoulder, shaking him slightly. "I think they love it," he told Kurt, laughing.

"Nicely done, Raoul," Kurt complimented him with a grin, bowing elegantly to the cheering crowd and feeling Blaine follow suit.

"Oh please, I'm sure that is was Christine who carried the performance," Blaine shot back, raising a hand to wave to the people who had kept cheering. They had all been standing in the first place, grouped haphazardly in front of the make-shift stage, but Kurt figured that a standing ovation was a standing ovation, and he reveled in it.

The woman with the clipboard was beckoning to them from stage left, and Blaine and Kurt walked away from center stage with a final wave to the audience. "Brilliant, brilliant, _brilliant,_" the woman enthused, waving her hands through the air before clutching them dramatically to her heart. "I swear, there was a moment there when I could hardly breathe."

"Flattered, I'm sure," Kurt said politely, tilting his head to the side.

"I'll put in a call to your glee club director first thing after the rally."

Kurt shot Blaine a look, and the latter replied only with an innocent shrug. "Charity work gets you brownie points. I didn't mention that?"

"No," replied Kurt bluntly, not wanting to dwell on Blaine's selective forgetfulness with the other woman around.

"Anyways, I have to run fellas. But thanks again, you did wonderfully. I mean _look_ at that crowd!" She beamed out over the people who were now buzzing with lively energy. She began to walk toward them when she turned toward the singing duo again – a rather persistent habit she had, Kurt noticed. "One more thing," she added with a wink. "You're both just _too_ adorable together. The way you were playing off each other up there – _ah!_ Stunning."

She left for real, leaving Kurt standing there with a stunned expression on his face. Blaine let out a strangled laugh that sounded partially forced. "Well she was…interesting."

"More than interesting," Kurt replied, watching her leave a bit fondly. Smiling hesitantly, he turned away from her retreating figure to look at Blaine, who was observing him carefully. "How'd you know that was in my repertoire? And what on earth would we have done if it _wasn't?_"

Blaine's face cracked into a smile. "I heard you singing "Think of Me_"_ in the hall once." Of course. "I figured you knew them all. Anyways, what kind of diva would you be if _The Phantom of the Opera_ wasn't in your repertoire?"

"None." Kurt was still smiling goofily. "Blaine…thank you. I don't know what I do to deserve all these things you do for me, but they're amazing." _You're. You're amazing._

Blaine was looking down at his shoes, a small smile playing in his lips. "Come on, Daaé," Blaine said, nudging Kurt toward his car. "Let's go get some breakfast."


	3. Chapter 3 :: Paranoia

THREE:

Despite the earliness of their departure, Kurt didn't get back to his house until late afternoon. After breakfast, he'd felt the need to make up for his Marc Jacobs expenditure by spending a hefty amount of time in the Burberry in the Lima Center Mall. By the time they had been through every inch of the store, plus the extra time it took them to get sidetracked by both Calvin Klein and Banana Republic (though the latter didn't take long to evacuate, as Kurt was immediately off-put by their lackluster selection of scarves and accessories), it was the lunch hour. Seeing as how neither of them would be caught dead eating fries out of a paper cup in the mall's food court, they then had to find a suitable place to eat lunch.

By the time that meal came to a close, the duo was in the middle of a heady debate about Christine's decision in choosing Raoul over Erik. Their feet carried them out to a bench by the Ottawa River as they argued their respective sides. Kurt, being the old-fashioned romantic that he was, said that she was absolutely, one hundred percent right in choosing Raoul. The Phantom had kidnapped her and held her hostage, and Raoul had been her friend long before they were lovers. Raoul was a _true_ gentleman, and it was hard to contend with that. Blaine, on the other hand, took the opposite side of the argument. True, Erik had kept her with him but it had been to win her love, and he had let her go when she asked. He said that the Phantom was a wholly more passionate and three-dimensional being, a factor that should have held weight over whom Christine had chosen. Passion and extremity of what you were willing to do for love, he said, was the most important thing.

One thing they could agree on, however, was that both Erik and Raoul had loved her in their separate but equal ways, and she had loved both of them.

When Kurt finally reached his house, after bidding Blaine goodbye at the car, he immediately went to his cellphone:

_M, Emergency sleep-over. Bring emergency J.G. box-set. –K_

Half an hour later, Mercedes walked up to the Hudson-Hummel residence and rang the doorbell.

* * *

"He took you _where?_" She asked, tone disbelieving.

"I know," Kurt mumbled. He sighed and dipped the thin nail-polish brush in the bottle before taking her hand firmly once more and continuing to attempt the striped zebra effect he was aiming for. "_I know._ Mercedes, _I know._"

The girl laughed and shook her head shortly before grabbing the remote control with her free hand and selecting 'play'. The beginning of _Me and My Gal_ began to play as Kurt capped the bottle and looked on at the screen blankly. "Kurt," Mercedes said slowly, crossing her legs on the bed. "It was a gay rally…and you _are_ gay. Besides, you were just singing, nothing else. He didn't force you to go parade it around. Don't you think you might be making too big of a deal out of this?"

The countertenor groaned dramatically and flopped back on his pillows. "No," he protested, failing to convince even himself. "I mean, did I make him think for some reason that I was disappointed in him? Why did he even feel the _need_?"

"Well, is it showing your sexuality in public that makes you uncomfortable?"

"Mercedes," Kurt said flatly, expression clearly daring her to repeat that. "We used to go to the same school, you _know_ that isn't true."

"Then tell me what upset you," she demanded, genuine worry written into her brow. "I can't just keep guessing forever."

"I don't…_know," _Kurt said hopelessly, tossing his hands up in the air. "I suppose it's that he thinks he has to do these things, jump to the extremes for some weird notion of 'making it up to me'. Don't you think it's weird? Even just a little bit?"

"Yeah, it's a little weird," she acquiesced. "But he just wanted to make you feel better, and what would you have rather had him do? Music is both of your passions; he can express himself that way and the venue was just secondary - it's something you have in _common_. Would you rather have gone to some shopping center? An amusement park, maybe?"

"_God, no."_

"Then stop being such a baby," Mercedes told him, poking him in the side. "He was obviously just grasping at the thing that you two have and will always have in common. He obviously just wanted to _bond._ You can't blame him for that, Kurt."

Kurt made an unintelligible noise, in response to which Mercedes climbed across the bed cover and settled herself down next to him. For a moment she said quiet, letting the movie carry on in the foreground. "So," she said finally. "Was it amazing, being serenaded like that? It was _Phantom_, Kurt. _Phantom!_"

"So amazing," Kurt answered her quickly, sitting up as a huge, far-away smile stretched across his face. "And I didn't even tell you about how I woke up into the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet…"

* * *

"You took him _where?_" Wes was looking at Blaine hesitantly from where the latter was lying buried up to his neck in blankets and pillows.

"_Oh God_"," Blaine bemoaned, throwing himself face-first into a large, over-fluffed pillow. Wes guessed that he must have said _I really am an idiot_, though it came out sounding like, "Rye rearry ram an irit."

David looked up at his sane friend with an exasperated expression. "Blaine, I think you're being paranoid," the Warbler council member pointed out. "It's not like you took a straight guy to a gay rally. It's not like you took someone you hardly knew. You took Kurt, who I can safely say is probably your best friend by now."

Just as Kurt had called an emergency meeting with Mercedes, Blaine had called on Wes and David. On his drive home, the seed of doubt has sprouted in Blaine's mind and by the time he reached his home near Westerville that seedling had grown into a wild doubt-forest. Wes had quickly invited the junior Warbler to his house for the evening, along with David.

"But he tried to run away," Blaine continued, face still buried in the aforementioned pillow. "His feet were carrying him in the opposite direction and I pulled him back. I forced him to come. Oh God, he hates me. After everything..."

Wes let out a tired sigh. Blaine got this way from time to time. In most aspects of his life he was calm and collected, but concerning matters of the heart he fell to pieces at the blink of an eye. "Well, what did he say afterward?"

Blaine lifted his head from the pillow and blinked at Wes. "Well, thank you…kind of. He might have used the word amazing. And then there was breakfast…and Burberry…and lunch…and the park."

Wes looked at Blaine like he was crazy before picking up the remote controller for his Play Station 3 and returning to the action on the screen. "You've obviously lost your mind completely. Sounds like a nice date to me."

One source of feedback gone, Blaine turned his wide eyes on David. "Wes is right…if he said that, and the day just _continued, _I don't know why you're freaking out about it."

"Because maybe he didn't mean it. Maybe he doesn't like …I don't know, advertising himself."

"Blaine," David said in all seriousness. "First of all, you two were singing, and we all know how Kurt feels about being in the spotlight. Second of all, we've all seen Kurt in leather pants on more than one occasion, and I find it hard to believe that he cares about 'advertising himself' in the least."

Blaine's face had colored a deep red, and he clutched the pillow to his stomach moodily. "I don't feel good," he announced dramatically.

"You know where the bathroom is. Scrub brush is in the cabinet under the sink, I expect you to clean up if you hurl."

"_Wes_," Blaine declared, shooting up from his nest of blankets. "This is no time to joke, I'm in a crisis."

"You _invented_ yourself a crisis," Wes clarified. "So maybe singing at a gay rally wasn't the brightest idea you've ever had in your life, but it was born from good intentions. I'm sure Kurt knows that."

"No, he doesn't know," Blaine insisted. "I ruined _everything._"

"Blaine," David said, walking over to his friend and laying a hand on his shoulder. "I know that your imagination has an unsightly way of running away with itself but you have to stop. Kurt isn't the type who would lie about something like that."

"David's right," Wes said, from where he had paused the game and was now looking over at his two friends. "Kurt would be the first one to refuse to sing and walk himself all the way back to Lima in his leather boots."

Blaine let out a strangled noise from under the pillow fortress he'd built to bury himself in. After a few more seconds of strangled noises, David looked over at Wes, startled. "I think he's _laughing._" He yanked the pillow away from Blaine's head and looked down at his friend with an appalled expression.

"Kurt…leather…Lima…_oh God_." Blaine rolled out from under the blankets, curls falling over his forehead. Sitting up straight, he ceased his laughter abruptly and cleared his throat. Properly, he fixed some of his more disobedient curls – at least attempted to - and sat calmly back against the headboard.

David looked on with reserve as his friend collected himself. "Are you…alright?"

"Yes," Blaine replied assuredly. "I decided that you were right…at least partially. I also decided that I won't bring it up if he doesn't bring it up. Also, I'll find a _new_ way to make it up to him. I have an idea."

"Maybe that last one isn't such a good idea," Wes pointed out carefully. "Maybe you should just let it be, Blaine."

"I agree," added David. "Let it be. I doubt he'll think anything else of it, from what few comprehensible things you did say in the last hour, I gathered that he actually ended up _liking_ singing with you."

Blaine said nothing else, he merely continued to look thoughtful.

Wes shot David a knowing glance, and the latter glared at Blaine through narrowed eyes. "Blaine, seriously; whatever you're thinking, just stop your thought process before it snowballs and makes things bad in actuality rather than just in your crazy imagination."

The youngest Dalton student still just sat, wearing a pleasant expression. "I'm not going to _say_ that I'm remedying what I did. It'll just be like…an outing, no pun intended. Just as…friends."


	4. Chapter 4 :: From Me, To You

FOUR:

That Monday morning, at Dalton Academy, Kurt walked through the halls, books in hand. His feet carried him swiftly toward his music class, which he shared with Blaine. He was several feet away from the door when a voice from behind him called out his name loudly.

"Wes, David," Kurt said, startled to see the two older boys racing toward him. "Are…you guys okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," breathed the former, contrarily kneading his side lightly. "I was just wondering if you'd talked to Blaine today."

"No," Kurt answered slowly. "But I'll see him now in music; do you guys want me to give him something for you?"

"Oh no," David answered, waving his hands in front of him. "Just, uh, wondering." He cleared his throat before glancing at Wes.

"So how was Saturday?" The council leader asked nonchalantly, leaning up against the wall.

Kurt narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "It was nice, really nice. Listen, did Blaine send you guys? Mercedes said that –"

"Mercedes?" David interrupted. "You…called Mercedes after?" He looked sharply at Wes, whose brow was slightly furrowed. To anyone else it might have looked expressionless, but to David, who knew him so well, it told him that Wes' worry had peaked just as his had. If Blaine had called Wes and David to be consoled…why had Kurt called Mercedes?

"Yeah, but…guys what is it? Why the third degree? And _don't_ lie to me."

Wes was silent for a minute before grabbing Kurt's arm and dragging him a bit farther away from the music room door. "Blaine was just a little worried that he'd made you uncomfortable, that's all. He doesn't want you to have reason to be mad with him."

"Mad?" Kurt repeated. "No, I mean…no. _What?_"

"Believe me, we asked the same thing," David intoned.

"We sang a song…_together_. A Broadway song. He bought my breakfast _and_ lunch and we spent altogether too much money after getting carried away at Burberry," Kurt's laugh at the recollection was accompanied by a small shake of the head.

The dueling expressions of the other two had been gradually losing their edge as Kurt spoke, and at the end of his small explanation, David was even wearing a small smile of his own. "Well that's definitely good to know," he proclaimed. "He's all together too paranoid about what you think. Sometimes I think I should just tell him to hurry and get a move on with asking – _ow!_" The Warbler broke off his sentence and Kurt glanced down just in time to see Wes' foot sliding back toward him once more.

"We didn't want you to be worried if Blaine does anything weird," Wes backtracked, quite obviously in Kurt's opinion. "He gets this way from time to time, and he just needs to get it out of his system. Just go along with it, okay, Kurt?"

"Of course," the countertenor answered, jumping when the last bell for class rang loudly. "I've got to get in there; you guys should hurry on to class too, before you get detention." The duo left quickly down the hall, heads together in what could only be called conspiracy.

Kurt walked into the junior music class, shaking his head as he went. "Nice of you to join us, Mr. Hummel," said the music teacher, Mrs. Alcott, who doubled as the Warbler director with her husband. She was young and round-faced with a lilting voice with just a hint of an Australian accent, and she seemed to have a particular soft spot for Kurt ever since he'd joined the singing group. This, however, was not a Warbler setting. This was school, and she was the teacher.

"Just in time too, because we have the few remaining final music presentations to listen to, as well as the proposal of a _new project_!" There was a collective moan throughout the room from everyone except the class Warblers – about half a dozen boys – who sat up a bit straighter in their seats.

Mrs. Alcott only had one written exam on musical theory and that would be held in June, at the end of the school year. Other than that, she had a series of ongoing "oral tests", oral meaning displays of musical prowess. Since music was only one of many electives that Dalton offered, it was expected that those who had signed up were proficient at least one form of music – be it singing, playing an instrument, or both. To Kurt and the rest of the Warblers this was easy, but they'd found out in the first few weeks that most of the people in the class had taken it thinking it would be easier than anything else offered. That was where they were wrong, and with this style of teaching, Mrs. Alcott could weed them out from the rest and grade accordingly.

Kurt bowed his head slightly and offered a quiet apology before slinking over to where Blaine was seated – obnoxiously dead center in the front row of class, per their usual – and taking the seat beside him, which people knew to leave unoccupied.

As Mrs. Alcott called up "Carpenter, James" Blaine leaned over to whisper to Kurt, "What's up? You're never late."

"Got stuck talking in the halls," Kurt answered truthfully. "There…really wasn't a way to politely eradicate myself from the conversation." No indeed. "So, what are you singing?" Mrs. Alcott constantly changed the order in which people presented their songs. Sometimes it was the traditional way, last name by the alphabet, and sometimes she organized it by first name instead. This time she had opted for a backward alphabet technique: Z to A.

"I _hate_ having to go last," Blaine complained, keeping his voice at a whispered volume that only Kurt could hear. "I don't like waiting. I'd rather be first any day."

"You mean you'd rather set the bar higher than any other normal human can reach," Kurt corrected with a smile, eyes toward the front of the room. "And I can't say that your sentiment is unshared, but this way you get to show everyone how inferior the people before you were."

"I'm just lucky that you went last week," Blaine responded with a mischievous smile, which Kurt returned. Last week he had sung "Razzle Dazzle" from Chicago. A chair had been involved, as well some high kicks a la _Rose's Turn. _The countertenor had made it clear that he felt the Dalton uniform stifled his creative juices, but his request to wear his own unique ensemble had been turned down, and Mrs. Alcott had still been bright scarlet after the last long, drawn-out note. "I'd never be able to get a one-up on that piece."

"So what _are _you singing?"

"Surprise," Blaine responded evasively. Kurt was beginning to think that the amount of surprises Blaine had was higher than a healthy number. "I changed my mind and picked a new song yesterday too, hopefully it doesn't sound too unpracticed."

"I'm sure it wouldn't," Kurt reassured him. Yesterday? Blaine had been acting perfectly normal so far, and Kurt had begun to think that Wes and David had imagined the whole thing, but maybe this song was that they'd meant in the first place. Or maybe, Kurt thought bitterly, he was just thinking wishfully. That was always a possibility.

"Carpenter, James" finished his so-called song, a pathetic number put on by a kazoo, to smattering applause. James was the perfect example of one of those boys who had taken the class expecting to get easy credits. Kurt twiddled his thumbs all the way through "Briar, Fitzwilliam", "Baker, Simon", and "Ashbury, Brandon", only perking up slightly to pay attention to the first of the three, who was a fellow Warbler.

After everyone else in the class had gone, Mrs. Alcott finally called "Anderson, Blaine" to the front of the classroom. "May I?" He asked, gesturing to one of the acoustic guitars lined up with the rest of the instruments available for temporary student use.

"Of course, Blaine," Mrs. Alcott answered in her warm coloratura mezzo-soprano.

He grabbed one of them – Kurt knew that Blaine probably picked one to best compliment the song, though he himself knew little about the differences – and sat on a stool at the front of the room. "Alright, this is a classic," Blaine said, strumming experimentally. "I tweaked the notes a little bit to suit this solo style, but it's recognizable."

The lead Warbler cleared his throat and played the simplistic first chords. The words came quickly thereafter, and he glanced directly at Kurt as he began to sing.

_If there's anything that you want_

_If there's anything I can do_

_Just call on me and I'll send it along_

_With love, from me, to you_

_I've got everything that you want_

_Like a heart that's oh, so true_

_Just call on me and I'll send it along_

_With love, from me, to you_

The boys in the crowd had perked up at the first line, almost all of them recognizing the song from the iconic band. Kurt's eyes had gone as wide as saucers, and he brought his hand to cover his gaping mouth in a mixture of shock and awe.

Blaine's eyelids slid closed for a moment and his face turned upward slightly.

_I've got arms that long to hold you_

_And keep you by my side_

He opened them once more and Kurt's face colored an impossible shade of scarlet as Blaine's magnificent eyes trained on him, and the singing Warbler smiled as he sung his following lines.

_I've got lips that long to kiss you_

_And keep you satisfied_

_Ooooh_

Kurt's palm was clasped harshly against his mouth, to the point where he was sure that he was cutting off facial circulation, or else alternatively killing brain cells from the lack of oxygen making it's way to his brain, but he couldn't remove it.

The chances that this was being sung to him were slim, Kurt told himself. The part about wanting something? Perhaps, if Wes and David's warning had been any indication. But those last lines? No, it couldn't be.

_If there's anything that you want_

_If there's anything I can do_

_Just call on me and I'll send it along_

_With love, from me, to you_

_Just call on me and I'll send it along_

_With love, from me, to you_

Kurt knew that biology lessons would prove contrary, but in that moment he could have sworn that his heart was in his throat. Blaine's eyes had narrowed as they did when he was smiling too largely and he'd moved into a standing position, moving with his music slightly.

For just a moment, Kurt was lost in appreciation for the way that Blaine was overcome with the music that he played. Part of what made him one of the best at what they did was his ability to enrapture the audience and, Kurt thought ruefully, make them feel like he was singing directly to them. Perhaps even that small fantasy that those few lines had been for him alone was a far-fetched notion.

But as Blaine's head tilted toward the side, and his voice spread out through the room seductively, Kurt decided that he could momentarily pretend otherwise.

_I've got arms that long to hold you_

_And keep you by my side_

_I've got lips that long to kiss you_

_And keep you satisfied_

_Ooooh_

Kurt could imagine Blaine being on a big stage one day, singing to a crowd that had paid money see him. There would be screaming girls – and screaming boys for that matter – in the front row, each holding their own fantasy of being with him, unrealistic as that might be. But Blaine wouldn't see the audience; he'd be in his own world again, entrenched in the music as he always had been.

Blaine was looking at Kurt as he sung his ode. He'd changed the song yesterday to one that meant something more to him, one that was relevant. His heart sunk as he saw the faraway look in Kurt's eyes; was he even _listening_? Did he know that Blaine had debated about singing this song for several hours, pondering over whether it was too forward of him? It was, after all, _for_ Kurt, and Blaine meant every word of it. _Every_ word. His cheeks colored slightly as the far-off but familiar daydream drifted through his mind, which he shook off and recovered from just in time to not botch the last lines.

_If there's anything that you want_

_If there's anything I can do_

_Just call on me and I'll send it along_

_With love, from me, to you_

He finished the last notes to strong applause. He tried to make his smile look unforced as he put the guitar back and turned toward his seat. To his surprise, Kurt was clapping louder than anyone, beaming up at him with that stunning smile that no one could replicate, the one that always had him smiling in response.

"It was alright, then?" Blaine whispered as the last polite claps faded and Mrs. Alcott made her way to the front of the room again.

"Better than," the other Warbler answered, winning a smile in return. "So…why did you change it aga-"

His question was cut off as Mrs. Alcott spoke up: "Well, Blaine! That was stunningly beautiful, as always. Sounds like you might have had a little practice this weekend?" She looked at Kurt and Blaine knowingly, sly smile on her face, and the two boys exchanged a fleeting glance. That could only mean that the rally coordinator had already made the call she promised. "Brilliant song choice as well, and the modifications were a nice addition to show the extent of your creativity. Now, in circumstances from now on, we would have one more performer. Jordan," Alcott gestured to a boy in the back.

"Who's that?" Kurt mouthed at Blaine.

The other Warbler shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, indicating that he didn't know. "Transfer, I guess." He craned his neck to catch a glimpse, but the boy in question was on the other side of the room. "Can't see him."

"You get a freebie Jordan, seeing as this is your first week." Mrs. Alcott then turned to address the rest of the class. "Your scores for this presentation will be up next week. Now to address that lovely _new _presentation I was talking about. Before now I've let you all have artistic reign with what you wanted to play or sing, but we're going to increase the challenge here. From here on out, I'm going to give you themes you have to reply to. They might be general or specific but if you don't adhere to it you won't get the grade, simple as that."

She paused for a moment, to let her words sink in. "I know that coursework at Dalton is heavy, so I'll be giving you _four_ weeks to perfect this, people. But when I say perfect, I mean _perfect._ A month is a long time boys. The theme should be inspiring, rather than hindering. I want this song to be a message."

Blaine thought it must have been in his imagination only that Kurt's eyes turned to him briefly in that moment.

"You're singing this song to someone; these are all the emotions that you have wanted to get off your chest and you finally get to release them through music. Think about what you want to do, that's why you have the time – we'll be singing A-Z by first name. It ought to be lovely!" She finished her energetic speech just as the dismissal bell rang and the boys began gathering their things. "Until then, we'll be having theory and history lessons during class time. All this will be on the final, boys!"

Kurt and Blaine left the room side-by-side, heading outside for the morning break. "So, you never did say why you changed songs," Kurt asked carefully. It was the question he had tried to ask in the classroom.

Blaine was silent for a moment, carefully turning around the apple he'd taken out of his messenger bag in his fingers. "I…just thought that it was more appropriate, considering the circumstances."

"Wha...what circumstances?" The halls seemed to go dead quiet. The only sound in the world was the ferocious beating of Kurt's heart and he was absolutely convinced that Blaine could hear it through his ribcage, Dalton blazer, and all. The sound was certainly overcoming him; it pounded through his ears like its echo would be there forever.

"Okay, well you didn't exactly _ask_," Blaine said, turning his head away. In that moment, Kurt could have died happy. Him. _Him._ "But I figured that I could do something for you anyways."

"I'm sure that you already do more than enough," Kurt said honestly, pressing his palm over the left side of his chest, attempting to stifle that pounding heartbeat.

"Because I enjoy it," Blaine quickly explained, beginning to rummage through his bag. "I might have just _happened_ to stumble across the event list for The Ritz Theatre and they might just _happen_ to be performing _Chicago_ this month. There _might _be a show this Friday night at eight."

Kurt's jaw had gone slack. "You _didn't._"

"I did." The black-haired Warbler pulled two tickets out from his bag.

"How did you get those so fast?"

"This newfangled invention called the internet. Did you know you can get almost _anything_ on it nowadays?"

"Blaine," Kurt objected, the hint of a whine lacing his voice. "You can't keep buying all these things for me. I feel horrible, like I'm stealing from you."

"That's the _last_ thing you should worry about," Blaine assured him, waving his hand. "Seriously, my parents don't even notice when I spend money on smaller things like this. And more importantly, they could care less."

Kurt's brow knit slightly, Blaine's words causing worry to crop up in his mind. "What was that you said the other day about big tycoon families that could afford to send their kids here again?"

"But that's not _why_ I'm here," Blaine said seriously. "You know that Kurt, better than anyone."

"I do," he affirmed, mortified that he'd brought it up in the first place. "So just who _are_ you?"

"There'll be plenty of time for the oh-so-devastatingly-interesting story of Cayden and Awa Anderson while we wait for Act I to begin," Blaine hinted. "So is that a yes?"

"It is," Kurt acquiesced, falling into laughter. "It's a date, then."

"What?" Blaine's eyes were trained on Kurt, torn between hope and dread, waiting to see his reaction.

Kurt's laughter immediately turned into an uncomfortable throat-clearing. "I mean like…a date…you know, as two...people meeting in one place at a pre-specified time."

"Oh…right, right. Of course," Blaine hurried to agree with him, the rapidity of Kurt's retraction of his offhand statement sitting heavily on his mind. It was quickly thereafter in which the bell signaling the end to the short morning break rung, and Blaine got to his feet from where he and Kurt had eventually settled side-by-side against a wide-based tree.

"Well, I have class on the other side of campus," Blaine said, fiddling with his shoulder strap. He stood still for a moment, as if he wanted to say something else, but in the end he just smiled down at Kurt strangely and walked off toward his next class.

"Well...that was smooth," Kurt mumbled to himself, having reached his mortification quota for the day already, and it wasn't even noon. He stood and went to grab his own bag from the ground, but was stopped by the sight of something partially obscured by the bag's sitting crumples: Blaine's apple. Kurt's stomach gave an unholy grumble as he saw it there, reminding him that he'd brought money for lunch instead of making something, and he'd forgotten to pack a snack for the first part of the day.

"Great," Kurt muttered, picking up the fruit with plans of giving it back to his friend. As if the day hadn't been strange enough already, when he lifted it something crumpled from underneath it. Paper?

Now genuinely confused, Kurt picked up the folded piece and read over it:

_You brought money and forgot to pack a snack again, didn't you?_

_I figured you'd have been eating it if you had remembered._

_You're lucky to always have me to look out for you._

_-B_

Kurt looked disbelievingly at the note for longer than he cared to acknowledge. When had Blaine _written_ that? Had there been a minute long period wherein he had just blacked out entirely and not noticed? Or was he some sort of magician? Either way Blaine _was _right, and he'd said the same thing that Kurt had on Saturday purposefully, Kurt was sure of that.

Smiling to himself and muttering something about guardian angels, Kurt hastened toward his late morning classes, taking a bite from the apple as he went.

* * *

_From Me To You - The Beatles_


	5. Chapter 5 :: The Point of No Return

_A/N: I'm sincerely sorry that I had to leave the first couple verses off of the song that crops up in this chapter. I know it's total sacrilege, but it just didn't make sense to include them and I felt like it could have easily turned into baggage. So, I hope you forgive me and enjoy it anyway!_

_Second, kudos to anyone who finds the little literary reference here and deciphers what it means. I double major in English so I add little references here and there just for the hell of it. I'm eager to see if anyone picks up on it!_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

FIVE:

The rest of the week passed in an excited, apprehensive blur. The entire Hudson-Hummel residence found themselves humming under their breath every so often, a side-effect of Kurt singing whenever he cleaned the dishes, was in the shower, or…did anything, really. Burt knew that his constant state of euphoria was in anticipation of this Friday.

Kurt had told his father that he and Blaine were going to see Chicago on Friday night, to which Burt hadn't asked any further questions.

"He's driving from Westerville to Lima and then we're just continuing up to Tiffin," Kurt assured him.

"Isn't that an awfully long way for him to go?" Burt's unspoken question didn't reach Kurt. _Isn't that a long way for a 'just-friend' to drive on a Friday night?_ Kurt had merely shrugged and went about his business.

Now, it was Friday afternoon and Kurt was flitting all around the house. He'd offered to go straight from Westerville after school to save the time it would take Blaine to drive to Lima, but his offer had been declined. It wasn't until eight, Blaine had told him, and they would both be more comfortable if they went home and changed into something other than their Dalton uniforms.

It was just over an hour from Lima to Tiffin, and since they wanted to be at the Ritz a while before the show actually started, Blaine had told Kurt that he would be in Lima around six. It was currently five-thirty, and Kurt was completely ready.

He peered into his mirror, glancing over his hair one last time. He usually went to greater lengths than other people to present himself, but tonight he had topped his usual self-décor. Kurt was really rather pleased with the final product. When he asked himself _why_ that was, the logical side of his brain clammed up. He'd told Blaine that it wasn't a date. Of course he didn't think that he was the one who had the authority to decide that. Blaine was the instigator, after all.

A knock came from his door, to which Kurt called "it's open."

"Kurt," his father announced his presence. "Do you have a second?"

"About thirty minutes," Kurt answered literally, glancing at his watch.

"Right well…so, going to a…musical thing with Blaine tonight, huh?"

"Not just 'a musical'," Kurt corrected. "It's one of the most famous Broadway shows ever. You remember, we watched the movie."

"Right. The guy in the…sparkly suit. I remember that part. Uh, anyway, Kurt – what I wanted to ask was is this…_thing_ tonight, a date?"

"Dad," Kurt bemoaned, averting his eyes and clearing his throat. "It's Blaine. We've been friends for a while now, you know that."

"Yeah, I know," Burt replied, shaking his head. "But you've been hanging out with Blaine an awful lot lately, and since you're both…you don't think its turning into anything more?"

"Dad, we don't have to talk about this," Kurt said quickly, standing up and busying himself by pointlessly rearranging the pencils in his school bag. "We really, _really_ don't have to talk about this."

"We'd talk about it if it was some girl," Burt replied, clearly muscling through for his son's benefit. "So I don't see how this should be anything different."

"Because Blaine just wants to be friends," Kurt said quietly, not looking up from his bag, which his hands had stopped fiddling with. "Nothing to talk about."

Burt was silent for a moment, simply staring at his son. "We'll see," he said, standing up. "You know I'm always here for you, Kurt. No matter what."

"I know, Dad," Kurt assured him, finally making eye contact with his father. "I know."

The elder Hummel nodded once and walked toward Kurt's door. His son watched him go, wishing that the conversation had gone differently. Kurt wished that he could have said yes, Blaine was his boyfriend and _yes_ he would have loved to talk about his feelings like they were in some sort of sitcom. Burt would be properly embarrassed, and Kurt would be embarrassed for how embarrassed his father was. It would be awkward and perhaps even laughable but in the end they both would have been glad for it.

As it was, with his father now walking down the stairs, Kurt was still wishing for a different conversation entirely, though that little bump could hardly ruin his good mood. The Warbler was adjusting his bowtie at the last minute when the doorbell rang.

Quickly, he grabbed his jacket and shoulder bag and practically floated down the stairs, only to be mortified at the sight that awaited him.

Blaine was standing in the foyer, looking dapper as ever. He was also slightly dressed up, which made Kurt immediately glad for the attire he'd adopted. Directly across from Blaine stood Burt and Finn, the latter with arms crossed against his chest.

Fighting against succumbing to what could only be the beginning of minor heart palpitations, Kurt descended the last few stairs and stood by Blaine's side, anxiety melting when he smiled at him as if remembering a joke only they knew.

"Well, we should probably leave…quickly," Kurt hinted, moving toward the door.

"I'll probably be up pretty late," Finn said pointedly. "So I can let you in when you get home. Tonight."

"…Okay." Kurt forced an even tone into his voice, keeping that slightly creepy smile in place. What he wanted to know was why Finn wouldn't be going out on a Friday night himself, but he kept the question to himself.

"It was nice seeing you again Mr. Hummel. Finn." Blaine nodded at each in turn, the perfect image of a gentleman. He and Kurt left the house and walked toward Blaine's car. All the while, Kurt was thinking that the scene had been reminiscent of one of those horribly awkward romantic comedies.

* * *

"He seems…nice," Burt remarked to Finn as the two watched the Warbling duo walk down the front path.

"He is," Finn said genuinely. "He really is…like, freakishly nice."

Carole came up to the two men, making a small sound of protest as she saw Blaine and Kurt walking away. "I missed them! Why didn't you call me?" She whacked her son's shoulder before turning back to beam at the two through the window, putting a hand over her heart. "Burt, tell me that isn't the most adorable pair you have ever seen in your life?"

"I can think of a few…" He mumbled.

"Well, I think that Blaine is just what Kurt needs, after everything that happened at McKinley."

Finn smiled at his mother's words. She _was_ right about that. "Let's just…hope that they don't turn around and see us all peering through this window."

Slowly Burt began to chuckle, an infectious laugh that soon had taken hold of all three.

* * *

The ride to the theatre was made mostly in comfortable silence, a concept which amused Kurt. There were certain people with whom he felt like he _always_ had to talk. Finn was an excellent example of this. Then there were other people who never stopped talking _at_ him. Rachel fell into that category. Then of course, there were people like Mercedes, with whom he simply didn't ever _not_ have something to say. Blaine fell into that category as well, but he also seemed to extend into one of his own. Kurt didn't know how he would feel if he sunk into silence with Mercedes, but it certainly wouldn't be anything like this.

When Blaine pulled into the parking lot, Kurt was sure that he could have comfortably continued on for five, six more hours at least but the excitement of being here with _Blaine_ was taking over. Whatever he might have said to his father, he and Blaine were going out on a Friday night. Together. Just the two of them.

"I hope they do your "Razzle Dazzle" justice," Blaine remarked lightly as he gave the doorman the two tickets and retrieved the stubs.

"Well, I didn't have the sequined suit," Kurt responded, more serious than Blaine put together. "If I'd had it my way, I'm sure they wouldn't be able to."

"Hey Kurt," Blaine said thoughtfully, his eyes settling somewhere behind Kurt's shoulder. "I know that you're probably going to be on Broadway one day anyway –"

"And you'll be singing sold out shows all across the country."

Blaine's gaze flicked to meet Kurt's, a smile twisting his lips. "But have you ever seen the backstage of a professional musical theatre before?"

"…no," Kurt responded slowly. "You usually have to be…you know, _in_ professional musical theatre for that."

"Usually," Blaine agreed, grabbing Kurt's hand. "_Usually._ Come on." He took hurried steps toward a side-door in the large room they'd been fed into after passing the ticket-rippers.

_Official Personnel Only_

"That looks foreboding," Kurt whispered. "And maybe indicative of the illegality of going in there."

"It's probably just frowned upon. And besides, we _officially_ want to go back there, so…"

Kurt was torn between wanting to seize the moment and knock Blaine over the head with something heavy. This was extremely unlike him. He was only ever the proper gentleman, Kurt had never seen this side of Blaine before, and he found that it was a rather one.

"Let's go," Kurt agreed with a grin.

Blaine responded by squeezing his hand more tightly for a brief moment, reminding Kurt that he was holding it at all. Consequentially, he grew acutely aware of the contact. The lead Warbler pushed the door open and they stepped into the hallway quickly.

"I can't believe this is happening," said Kurt, in a flat voice. Adrenaline had begun to course through him, a different kind than the one that always took him over when performing; this was, in a way, dangerous. They could get _caught. _They could get in _trouble_. Kurt had never felt such a pathetic, juvenile sense of thrilling disobedience in his life.

"Me either," Blaine said, stopping his walk to look at Kurt curiously before collapsing into laughter. "I can't believe that we're seventeen and sneaking into backstage areas of a theatre."

"Well, at least we're not off doing drugs," Kurt defended.

"_That_ is true," Blaine agreed, pointing a finger.

"Come _on_," Kurt urged with good natured impatience, tugging lightly on Blaine's cardigan sleeve. "We are _not_ leaving without peeking into an empty dressing room to see how we'll be treated in the future."

They walked down the hall for a few moments in silence, not encountering anyone, before Blaine spoke up quietly: "How long do you think it'll be before you're allowed back here legally, Kurt?"

A smile quirked at the countertenors lips. "After college," he responded. "I want to go to school first…but after that, who knows?" He certainly knew what he _wanted_: Broadway. It was one of Kurt's greatest ambitions, and he wouldn't stop until he'd reached that goal, even if he did want a higher education first.

"Can I visit you backstage before your performances?" Kurt could no longer tell if Blaine was serious or kidding, as he had a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his lips but his voice didn't harbor a teasing tone .

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Kurt answered with a grin of his own. "You can get front row seats, too."

"Ah, I'm glad you'll remember me when you're famous. It warms my little –"

"_Hey!_" The duo must have jumped at least a collective yard as someone shouted from behind them. Kurt whirled around to see a guard approaching.

"_Oh shit_," Blaine breathed. Kurt had to agree. They'd begun to speak louder as they walked along, forgetting that this was someplace they shouldn't be.

"Who are you?" The man called. "Don't move."

"_Au contraire_," Kurt said as he hurriedly grabbed Blaine's hand. "Let's not wait to find out what happens when he gets here…" He took off in something between a run and a sprint, Blaine keeping even pace.

"Stop! You aren't supposed to be in here! _Stop._"

They turned a corner only to reach a four-way turn in the halls. They could go straight, right, or left. "Go. Go that way," Blaine said, shoving Kurt to the right. If Kurt didn't know better – since they were being _chased_ and all – he would have sworn that he heard the undertones of a laugh in his best friend's voice. "I'll go left. Hurry, before he comes around the corner."

Remembering that they both had their phones and it wouldn't be difficult to find Blaine if they split up, Kurt hurried to the right, taking the next turn that the hall allowed. That done, he slowed to a walk. They'd only run for a short while but Kurt's heart was racing in his chest, attributed no doubt to the chase itself.

He'd walked for a minute or two and taken a few more turns and Kurt could hear no sound of pursuit, though he was surprised he hadn't encountered anyone else. Steeling himself, he leaned against a wall, propping his head up against it.

Slowly a smile spread across the Warblers face and he began to chuckle, the laughter growing stronger and stronger. He and Blaine – dapper, proper Blaine – had just run from a security guard backstage at The Ritz Theatre. It was more ridiculous than he would have believed had he not lived it five minutes ago. Wes and David and the rest of the guys would _never_ believe this on Monday.

He took out his cell phone to see (Inbox:1)

_I think I'm good over here. Maybe he gave up?_

_Anyways, where did you end up?_

_-B_

Gave up. _Right._ Kurt looked up to see numbers by the few doors along the hallway where he was.

_Near door 101. Hopefully they're in some sort of order._

_I wouldn't count on it. Engage ninja-mode on your way over, alright?_

_-K_

Kurt pocketed his phone, looking around. It was a plain hallway, which surprised him. He always expected them to be intricate and decorated, stars on the door and halls overflowing with people in fancy costumes and feather boas.

Curiously, he tried the handle of the nearest door. Locked. Mildly discouraged, he attempted the next one, which opened easily. Excitement growing, he peered inside only to be faced with a mop. His expression contorted as he shut the door once more. A broom closet. Lovely. He didn't even know where he was in relation to the stage or dressing rooms. He figured that in retrospect, finding one would have been an off-chance.

As he leaned back against the wall once more, determined to stay in one place so Blaine could find him, Kurt's ears perked up as the drifting sounds of a tune reached them. After only a moment, a quiet voice accompanied it.

_Past the point of no return_

_No backward glances_

_Our games of make-believe are at an end_

_Past all thought of if and when_

_No use resisting_

_Abandon thought and let the dream descend_

Trying to keep his dropped jaw at a safe distance above the floor, Kurt stood up straight and took hesitant steps toward the direction he thought the singing voice was coming from.

_What raging fire shall flood the soul?_

_What rich desire unlocks its door?_

_What sweet seduction lies before us?_

Kurt had to control a gasp when the words were delivered with the raw passion that he knew the song demanded. Hastening his steps, he turned a corner into a hall with more doors on the sides.

_Past the point of no return_

_The final threshold_

The countertenor stopped outside of a closed door from which the music was clearly coming from. Hesitantly, he laid his hand on the knob. He just had to see, really quickly, who was singing this song in a manner to rob him of his breath.

_What warm unspoken secrets will we learn?_

_Beyond the point of no return?_

He held his breath, waiting for the second voice to chime in, for the words he knew were coming to start. Moments passed and no one sung. Doubt crossed Kurt's mind. Why was someone – whoever this was – singing a duet _alone?_ Such a sad, passionate one at that.

He had cracked the door open, and no more sound came from within. Not wanting the voice to have stopped, that voice that sung with a fierceness Kurt could appreciate, he squeezed his eyes closed, not believing what he was about to do.

_You have brought me_

_To that moment when words run dry_

_To that moment when speech disappears_

_Into silence_

_Silence_

Roaring silence met his words, and Kurt opened the door farther, looking into the room. He looked into an entranceway, with two more rooms, one to each the right and left. The one to the right, at a quick glance, was completely empty. The one on the left led to a place he couldn't see, and Kurt stepped toward it, forgetting to close the door behind him.

_I have come here_

_Hardly knowing the reason why_

_In my mind I have already imagined_

_Our bodied entwining_

_Defenseless and silent_

_Now I am here with you_

_No second thoughts_

_I've decided_

_Decided_

His eyes were wide as he stepped into the antechamber, looking around for the mystery singer. They trained on a figure in front of a desk-like area, turned away. There was a mirror in front of him but it was positioned in a way that didn't allow Kurt to see his face in, his head being motionless and partially bowed.

_Past the point of no return_

_No going back now_

_Our passion-play has now at last begun_

_Past all thought of right or wrong_

_One final question_

_How long should we two wait before we're one?_

His feet were still carrying him into the room, as if by the force of his own music – which was a wholly difference force than that of Kurt himself and all that made up his reasoning and rational thought. His eyes were fixed on the broad back in the chair in front of him, the unmoving bulk that had to have been the source of the faceless voice that had drawn him here in the first place.

_When will the blood begin to race?_

_The sleeping bud burst into bloom_

_When will the flames at last consume us?_

The strength of his own voice surprised Kurt, though it shouldn't have. Singing to a strong opposite in a duet made him reciprocate that strength. He was now standing only a few mere feet behind the faceless man, and the other still hadn't moved.

Hesitating at whether to continue, he made his mind up when he saw the man's back broaden with an inhaled breath. Twining together, at different octaves yet still inextricable, his voice melded with that of the faceless man.

_Past the point of no return_

_The final threshold_

_The bridge is crossed_

_So stand and watch it burn_

_We've passed the point of no return_

Kurt still looked on at the faceless man, who had started to turn slowly in his chair. His voice drifted out again, immeasurably sad and hopeless.

_Say you'll share with me_

_One love, one lifetime_

_Lead me, save me from my solitude_

_Say you want me_

_With you here_

_Beside you_

In that instant, Kurt began to feel uncomfortable. He'd sung those words to Blaine not even a week ago. He took a step backward, suddenly feeling out of place. He was about to turn completely and flee toward the door when the faceless man finally turned his voice to him.

Kurt was met with electrifying blue eyes staring at him from under an elegant brow line and above a strong, Roman nose. His mouth felt exceedingly dry, and he felt the strange sentiment that if he blinked, the man would disappear like smoke.

The other man stood from his chair and got onto his feet, causing Kurt to take another hurried step back and almost tripp over a sitting table. He took a deep breath and the song's emotion filled his eyes with the strong lines, just as Kurt had pictured it had in the opening lines.

_Anywhere you go_

_Let me go, too_

_That's all I ask of –_

_Knock, knock, knock._ Three raps sounded on the open door, and Kurt whirled around, startled. He pulled his jacket a little tighter around him, feeling like he'd been caught in some scandalous act. "Er…show starts in twenty, Mr. Aaron. The director wants to see you in five minutes."

"Noted," Kurt's Phantom spoke in a voice that was startlingly soft and smooth, compared to the song that had been being sung from it only a moment ago. "Thank you. You can go." The woman scurried down the hall but he had never once looked up at her anyway. His eyes had been trained on Kurt's, never looking away although the countertenors were everywhere but on the man beside him.

* * *

Blaine had reached Room 101 to find the hall empty. He stood there for a moment, and was just about to pull out his phone and call Kurt when he heard a high voice soar from behind a door in an adjacent hall. That voice. He knew that voice.

Face becoming carefully expressionless, Blaine walked toward the singing voices. His heart constricted as Kurt sang about his body entwining with the mystery singers; though he knew that those were merely the words to the song jealousy flared up in his chest.

An open door. Blaine stood in the doorway, trying to see into the room without entering too far. On the left, he saw Kurt standing behind a man whose face he couldn't see. His eyes widened helplessly as their voices rose together, even as his jaw slackened a fraction and his head tilted toward the side in something akin to defeat.

His sane self would have told his current self that he was being pettier than ever before. This was a song and those were the words that had been written. Kurt and the faceless man were merely singing them. Never mind that the emotion in their combined voices was enough to break a full grown man.

Blaine's jealousy reached a new height as the faceless man turned and he sung again. He didn't see Blaine; he was only looking at Kurt. Looking at Kurt in a way that made Blaine's blood boil and run cold at the same time, in a way that made Blaine want to march into the room and push him away from Kurt with as much strength as he could muster.

Just as the man's voice was reaching its crescendo and Blaine was about to give in to his breaking point, someone pushed by Blaine's side and marched to the left-hand doorway, knocking on the frame. Startled back into clarity of mind, Blaine hastily retreated out of the room, attempting to push the black jealousy out of him as he did so.

He walked quickly back down the hall to Room 101, sinking against its closed door shakily. It was just a duet, he told himself. The other side of his mind argued back. Why had that duet even _happened_? Did Kurt know that person? They were just supposed to be here to watch a play.

Forcing his breath to come under his own control, Blaine calmly pulled out his phone.

_Just got to 101._

_Where are you?_

_-B_

* * *

The mystery singer surveyed Kurt calmly for a moment, though Kurt squirmed under his electric gaze. Finally, the countertenor could no longer take the silence. "I'm – I'm sorry. I just heard you singing, and no one came in to complete the second part."

The man, only slightly shorter than Kurt when he stood, shook his head. "No. Don't be. Your voice…it's unique. I'd never sung with a countertenor before. I was impressed."

Kurt's cheeks began to grow heated, an unwelcome effect that the man's gaze produced. On second glance, he didn't look much older than Kurt himself. He couldn't be far out of high school, Kurt decided. "Well…the first verses you sang…I – I could hardly believe it. It was stunning."

The other man shrugged nonchalantly, grabbing something off of the table he'd been sitting at. "I'd certainly hope so. That's why they hire me."

"Hire…" A piece clicked together in Kurt's mind. "_Oh!_ You're in the show? You're…you're in _Chicago?_"

"Billy Flynn. Pleased to meet you." Billy Flynn. _Billy Flynn._ Kurt had encroached upon one of the shows stars? If he hadn't been embarrassed before, he certainly was now. He could only gape at the man in front of him, to which the other laughed quietly. "Well don't clam up. I suppose real introductions would have helped first? Jordan Aaron."

"Kurt Hummel," the countertenor replied, reaching out a hand to delicately shake the one offered. Attempting to overcome the stupidity that must have been oozing off of him, Kurt cleared his throat. "So…why are you back here singing _Phantom_ before the show? Why not practice something you'll perform?"

The other man _tsk_ed with a shake of his head. "It's bad luck to sing a song from your show before the performance, Kurt. I would have expected someone who seems to know Broadway like you do to know that."

Kurt's cheeks immediately colored a darker shade of scarlet. "Oh, o-of course." How had he not remembered that?

"Well…I'd better go," Jordan said quickly, grabbing a bag from the chair and walking toward the door. "Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"You're talented. We'll see each other again." It was with that assurance that the other man left Kurt alone in the room, white noise roaring through his ears.

Still not feeling quite normal, Kurt pulled out his phone and read the text there. "_Shit,_" he cursed. He couldn't believe that he had momentarily forgotten about Blaine, and yet he had. He hastened toward Room 101 to find Blaine sitting on the floor, massaging his temples. "Blaine," he breathed, attempting to regain his composure. "Hi, sorry. I…wandered down the hall and took a turn and it took me a while to find my way back."

His friend's brow furrowed slightly and his lips pressed together, almost as if he _knew._ Though surely he would have said something if he did, Kurt thought. Why _did_ he lie to Blaine? It wasn't as if he had anything to hide. Nothing had happened, he'd merely – stupidly – sung back to someone he didn't know. And yet he loathed the thought of Blaine knowing what had happened.

"Fifteen minutes until it starts," Blaine commented, his strange expression returning to his usual reassuring smile. "If we get chased down on our way back, we'll hardly have time to find seats."

Blaine's forced smile remained in place, and Kurt was sure that his lie had been accepted.

* * *

_The Point of No Return - The Phantom and Christine (The Phantom of the Opera)_


	6. Chapter 6 :: La Vie en Rose

_A/N: Ahhh, sorry I lied! No song in this one either, but it's the last one, I promise! It is a bit of a fluffy filler chapter, I apologize ahead of time for the lack of dramarama. Also, it will provide some very relevant back story for Mr. Blaine Anderson. Again, I apologize for the shortness of this chapter but it was better as a separate entity from the next one. I hope you enjoy it anyway!_

* * *

SIX:

Kurt noticed a palpable shift in Blaine's energy after they sat down in the theatre, and he immediately recognized his mistake. Even if Blaine hadn't heard him singing with the Phantom - Jordan, Kurt reminded himself - the other boy wasn't an idiot, and he _did_ know when he was being lied to. But Kurt immediately defended his actions; what did a song mean? Nothing. It didn't mean anything and Blaine shouldn't care about it.

Did that mean that _their_ duet meant nothing? An annoying, logical voice entered his thoughts, disrupting what he'd previously seen as flawless logic. He certainly didn't want their duet to have been 'nothing'; he wanted Blaine to have meant what he sung. But the gaping hole in his reasoning was all too easy for Kurt to simply put aside and ignore.

They sat down in chairs side by side, facing the stage. For a moment, silence settled over the pair and Kurt was easily able to feel the difference from the silence in the car earlier. "You never did tell me your story."

"What story?" Blaine spoke as if he'd been suddenly disrupted from deep thought.

"I asked you who you were. I mean, I know you of course. But you know _everything _about me, my family, and our situation. You've met my dad, and Carole and Finn. But I don't really know anything about you." It was true. Their friendship had been formed on Blaine submerging himself into Kurt's problems, taking them on as if they were his own and therefore becoming very versed in everything Kurt. But the subject of Blaine's family and past hadn't been something they'd ever talked about, in spite of Kurt's growing curiosity about the subject. After all, Blaine was his best friend.

Kurt entertained the idea that this might be one of the reasons he didn't quite feel at ease in Dalton. He'd been engaging in an undeniably one-way relationship. It was something he planned on remedying as soon as possible, starting now.

Blaine was silent for a moment, as if pondering the request. Or as if no one had asked him about himself before and he was not quite sure of how to answer, which was an unsettling thought. "What do you want to know? I mean, what is there to tell?"

"Tell me about your parents. How come you don't mind paying for things all the time? You know…just the basics." Kurt paused, his lie weighing heavy in the back of his mind. "I want to know _you._"

Blaine's brow knit slightly but a strange smile became affixed on his face. "Uh…okay. Should I just _talk?_"

"I won't get bored of the sound of your voice," Kurt vowed with a small smile. He propped his chin up on a hand and simply looked at Blaine. "We've got about ten minutes until it starts. Just…go."

"Wow," Blaine said slowly. "Alright. Well it's just me and my parents at home, in a place that's way too big for just the three of us. It has one of those obnoxious driveways that stretches for too long in front of the house. You'll have to come over sometime soon and see." Blaine said the last sentence haltingly, as if nervous of Kurt's reaction.

"I will," Kurt agreed. "Sometime soon."

Blaine's small returning smile set Kurt's mind slightly at ease, though his guard remained partially up. He really was curious to see Blaine's house. He'd never pictured Blaine when he wasn't either a) at Dalton, or b) with Kurt. It was selfish, surely, but true. All he really knew about Blaine's personal life was his parents' names and the location of his house, startlingly little for someone whom he claimed was his closest friend.

"Cayden, that's my dad, he's…an interesting sort, I guess you could say. He talks about how his name means 'spirit of battle' and whatnot. I'd say that is a pretty accurate description." Blaine fell silent for a moment, a darker expression crossing his visage. "He grew up in the south, he's from a long line of more conservative minded people, so he's a bit…old-fashioned in his way of thinking."

Kurt understood Blaine's meaning immediately, and his gaze sharpened as he looked at his friend. "Does he know?"

"Of course," Blaine said quickly, eyes shifting skittishly. "He just sort of ignores that fact, which is probably a blessing. We never talk about it; he never mentions it around his family when they visit." Blaine shrugged, eyes still averted. "But I'm lucky, there are probably dozens of kids that actually get kicked out of their houses for…coming out."

Kurt simply stared. "What...what about your mother? She doesn't…act the same way does she?"

"Uh, no. She's great, really. I'm glad to have her, I really am. But she's always busy; she's away more than him on business. She just doesn't have time to talk to my dad about it." Kurt sincerely hoped that was the case, rather than the alternative one: that she _chose_ not to. "But that's where we get most of our income, from her. My mom and her sister started a business out of college and it sort of…exponentially blew up afterward, into chains across the country."

"Have I heard of it?"

Blaine's face colored slightly. "You know those…group yoga places where women get together to exercise?"

"Carole's signed up with one of those," Kurt affirmed. "An…something. An-something Fitness."

Blaine's expression didn't change. "Andrada. That's her."

"Wait," Kurt said, holding up his hands. "You're the _Andrada heir?_ But I went to Google to look up Ander –" Kurt halted his words, realizing their potential to compromise.

But Blaine had already caught the gist. "You Googled me and my parents?" He asked, fighting back a laugh.

"I wanted to know!" Kurt defended himself. "I figured something might pop up under Cayden or Awa Anderson and then I'd know why you never have to think about prices and why you never seem to mind paying for _everything _under the sun…"

"She started it before she was married, so she and my aunt kept their maiden names for the business: Andrada."

"Wow," Kurt said slowly. "Just…wow."

"Yeah well," Blaine brushed it off sheepishly. "The heir to a yoga fortune sounds like a bad joke. It's so embarrassing. I guess that's why I don't mention it…ever."

"I don't think it sounds embarrassing," Kurt replied. "It sounds like she worked her way from the ground up. It sounds perfect."

Blaine laughed, shaking his head. "Well does that satiate your curiosity? It looks like it's getting ready to start, I don't know how much more of a history lesson we have time for."

"For now," Kurt answered, smiling in accordance. He turned toward the opening scene, holding his breath for the moment that Jordan Aaron stepped out onto the stage.

Meanwhile, Blaine had made the assumption that the person from the dressing room must have been in the show, so he too was eagerly waiting to see which part the man came out as.

When he recognized his face as that of Billy Flynn, Blaine's heart seemed to sink like a rock. Kurt had sung Billy Flynn's song in Alcott's music class over a week ago, and now this man that he'd had that inexplicable duet with was singing it on a professional stage.

The only solace in Blaine's mind was that they would never see this man again.

* * *

The drive back was by no means quiet. The two were chattering the entire time about the play, though both of them avoided mention of Billy Flynn and the actor that played him. There had been traffic the entire way from Tiffin to Lima, causing the trip to take almost three times as long as it had on the way over. With the added effect of the snow that had begun to fall while they were in the theatre, it was long past one when Blaine finally pulled up outside Kurt's house.

At the thought of Blaine having to drive at least two more hours by himself in a pitch black blizzard Kurt paused, plan already formed in his mind. "Blaine," he started, catching the other boy's attention as he pulled into the driveway. "Why don't you just stay here tonight?" He paused carefully. "I hate the idea of something happening to you on your way back to Westerville."

"Oh," Blaine looked genuinely shocked. "Well, I don't want to impose and I don't have pajamas or a toothbrush or anything. It isn't any trouble just to drive back."

By the way his hands lingered in midair, Kurt could guess the falsities in that statement. No one _wanted_ to drive that far at night in the snow. "Blaine, really," he insisted. "I have everything you need, and I actually have to insist. You aren't getting killed on my watch. C'mon."

He hopped out of the car and walked around to the driver's side door just as Blaine was powering down the engine. "Kurt, I don't want them to get mad at me for imposing so suddenly…"

"Don't worry!" Kurt assured him, taking out his house key. "I'm sure they'd share my sentiment. No one wants to find you by the side of the highway in the morning, me least of all."

"Finn won't…think it's weird? He said he'd still be up…"

That had slipped Kurt's mind, but he was sure that his step-brother wouldn't be miffed at him for helping out a friend. "Why would he think that?"

"Kurt," Blaine said dryly. "I mean…you know. Come on, don't make me say it."

"_Oh_, because we're both _gay_," Kurt said it as if he was realizing it for the first time, before his face dropped the expression and became exasperated. "Stop being silly and come on, it's freezing out here."

Still looking unsure, Blaine stepped toward the newly opened door, entering as if he was trying not to step too loudly. "See? Finn isn't even here. He probably forgot he said that and went to sleep." Kurt locked the front door behind him and began his ascent up the stairs only to realize that Blaine wasn't following.

"Maybe Burt would prefer it if I slept down here, on the couch or something?"

"Blaine," Kurt said slowly, laying his hand softly on the banister and deciding to try a new persuasive tactic. "I got _La Vie en Rose_ last Christmas and I still haven't watched it. It's been waiting for company!"

Blaine looked up at him with wide eyes, clearly fighting a losing battle against Marion Cotillard. "If you're sure…"

"I'm sure, I'm sure. You worry too much."

"Maybe you don't worry enough," Blaine said, his tone abruptly switching to teasing. He began to walk behind Kurt up the stairs.

"I worry just the right amount," Kurt retorted.

Within a matter of minutes, Kurt had lent out pajamas and an unused toothbrush to the other Warbler and they were settled back against copious amounts of cushions, only to find the movie itself missing from Kurt's room. "I'll be right back," he promised. "Carole probably moved it, though goodness knows what she was doing in here."

He tiptoed down the stairs and turned into the living room, almost letting out a bloodcurdling scream when a large figure suddenly blocked his way. "Finn," Kurt whispered, clutching his chest dramatically. "Oh, I think you gave me a heart attack. _What_ are you doing?"

"Maybe I should ask that to _you_," Finn replied suspiciously, eyes staying on Kurt as the smaller boy crossed the room and rooted through the DVDs before locating the one he wanted. "Excuse me, but it looked like you just took Blaine up to your room and shut the door. And I'll be damned if I didn't see him walk out of there in the morning last weekend."

"He climbed through the window first!" Kurt exclaimed, not seeing how Finn could discount his word so quickly, ridiculous as it sounded. "That very morning, I promise. Finn you wouldn't want him to drive back _now_ in this weather? Would you?"

Finn was quiet for a moment before replying, "I guess not."

"And Quinn lived with you and Carole for a while –"

"When I thought I got her _pregnant!_ Kurt –"

"Okay that was a bad example, but I don't see why you're so upset about this." Kurt crossed his arms stubbornly, giving Finn his most stoic look. "I'm just being _nice._"

"Burt trusts you," was all Finn said in reply. "My mom trusts you. Just…keep that in mind."

"You don't have to tell me that," Kurt said, softer. "And I guess in some weird way, it's flattering that you care enough to get offended like this."

"We're brothers now. It's what we do."

Without answering, merely smiling disbelievingly, Kurt turned and hopped up the stairs two at a time, making his way back to his own room. He swung his door open without looking around. "So, Finn _was_ awa –" The countertenor stopped speaking abruptly as he caught sight of what was before him. Blaine was still where he had been when Kurt left – backed against a pillow mountain on one side of Kurt's double-sized bed – only now the side of his face was smashed against one aforementioned pillow, and he was breathing in with the even sounds of sleep.

Enraptured for a moment by the air of peace that had settled over his friend in his sleep, Kurt merely stood and stared at him. Taking care to be extra quiet, he flicked off the light and powered off the television, setting Marion aside for another day.

Kurt approached the bed, removing the excess pillows on his side before he reached over and gingerly adjusted the ones beneath Blaine's head until the lead Warbler was lying flat for the most part.

Still trying to not wake his friend, Kurt tossed the covers over Blaine properly, knowing that the winter night would grow colder, and eased his own body under the covers on the opposite side. The countertenor laid there, eyes wide open, facing Blaine's sleeping form.

A warm feeling of fondness rose in his chest and for once, Kurt didn't try to push it away. He had told himself more than once that their friendship was too precious to compromise but just for tonight be allowed himself to think of what might be, and the picture that formed in his mind was not unwelcome in the least.

Feeling almost painfully daring, Kurt slowly reached out one hand to touch a dark black, perfect, un-gelled curl that had fallen across Blaine's forehead. It was sinfully soft, just as he'd imaged it to be and he had to fight the sudden insane urge to move his wandering hand past that one curl to the rest of his hair, perhaps to touch the perfect contours of his face or the curve of his lips.

Reality reined him in though, and Kurt knew that was something to stay in his imagination only, far away from real life. Instead, he merely drew back his hand and laid it on top of the comforter. He was completely unsuspecting when he felt Blaine reach out for him and tangle their fingers together.

"G'night Kurt," his friend said in muddled words, clearly half asleep.

"Night Blaine," Kurt responded quietly, hardly daring to breath too loud lest Blaine come to his senses and withdraw his hand. A smile stretched across Kurt's face and he finally closed his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7 :: Let Me Go

SEVEN:

Monday came quickly, and Kurt was certain that things had finally turned in his favor. Burt had left early Saturday morning to go fishing, which meant that Kurt had avoided the strangeness of having to explain to him why Blaine had spent the night. That was not to mention why they had slept in the same bed. Kurt hardly thought that saying he didn't have the heart to kick him out would suffice as an excuse, and in all honesty there was a hint of a selfish aspect to be seen.

Furthermore, it seemed that Carole and Finn were more than happy to keep it all under wraps, which Kurt was eternally grateful for. Carole had been pinballing around the kitchen when the duo came downstairs and from her complete lack of surprise at Blaine's presence, Kurt would have hazarded to say that Finn had given his mother some forewarning.

Kurt had been up earlier than the other; when his eyes had opened on Saturday morning their hands had still been entwined, though sometime in the night they had inched closer together. He had remained still for a moment, relishing in their closeness with none of the assumptions or taboo that would have been heaped upon them by others had they been awake.

As Blaine slept, Kurt had eased himself out of bed and crept over to his mirror, where he began his rather lengthy morning skin care routine. He'd just been fixing the last sections of his hair into their usual order when Blaine stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes and squinting around the room.

"How long have you been up?" He asked groggily, a tone of self-consciousness seeping into his voice.

"Oh, not that long," Kurt said lightly, though it had been half an hour at the _very_ least. "Smells like Carole is making pancakes. Shall we go downstairs?" And that was the situation that saw a rumpled Blaine, curly hair sticking up in all directions, and a perfectly groomed Kurt arriving in the kitchen that morning, shortly after welcomed by Carole who _was_ in fact making pancakes.

In the end, Burt hadn't gotten back until early that afternoon, and by then Blaine had been long gone. As Kurt walked through the halls of Dalton Monday morning on his way to their early music class, he was feeling rather smug with his whole situation. The fact that his father had not confronted him meant that the Hudson pair still hadn't said anything to him about it, and Kurt didn't see the problem there. It appeared that _Carole_ at least knew that he was just being considerate, and they didn't need Burt to complicate that simple situation.

He arrived in the classroom before Blaine and sat in their usual spot in the front, taking care to glare pointedly at anyone who filed in and drifted toward Blaine's seat. He was just beginning to grow worried when Blaine rushed into the class a few minutes before the final bell and walked briskly to the seat at Kurt's side.

The sitting boy had immediately stiffened when the other came into the room. Distress was palpable all around him, and even if Kurt _hadn't_ noticed his hair's disarray, his unbuttoned blazer, un-tucked shirt and loose tie, he would have been able to sense that something was wrong.

"Are you alright?" Kurt asked, squeezing Blaine's lower arm reassuringly.

The other boy inhaled sharply at the contact and drew his arm towards his chest, cradling it slightly. Kurt looked on in shock. "I'm…yes, I'm fine. I just got off to a late start this morning; my alarm clock didn't go off…"

"You don't _look_ fine," Kurt protested, worry lines etched on his forehead. "You look…I don't know…_frazzled_."

"Kurt," Blaine said, regular smile in place through the rest of his disorder. "I'm fine. What more do I have to say? _I'm fine_."

"…Okay." Kurt was slightly off-put, not to mention startled by his friend's demeanor. He had seemed perfectly fine on Saturday morning, and Kurt hadn't worried about the fact that he didn't hear from him Sunday, as it was only _one_ day. "Well at least fix your tie, Alcott will call you out on it."

Kurt shook his head and turned to the front of the room, eyes only cutting back to make sure Blaine was doing what he'd suggested. Suddenly, Kurt froze. Noticing the shift in his friend's demeanor, Blaine hastily lowered his hands back down from where they had been adjusting his tie and looked away toward the door, avoiding looking into Kurt's eyes at all costs.

For a moment, no words would form in the countertenor's mind. Blaine's unbuttoned sleeve cuffs had fallen down toward his elbows when he'd raised his hands to fix his tie, and where the skin of his forearms had been exposed Kurt had seen dark purple marks spreading across the ivory canvas of both arms.

"What is that?" Kurt said sharply, trying to keep his voice quiet to avoid alarming the other students that were waiting for the class to start.

"Kurt, I don't know what you're –"

"No, _no_. Don't say you don't know what I'm talking about, Blaine." Hysteria was a very real possibility that Kurt had to consciously try to stay away from. "What _is_ that, how did you _get_ those?"

"It isn't anything," Blaine insisted, turning toward the action of buttoning the loose cuffs so they would stay tight around his wrists. "It's just a little bruise, that's all."

"That's all?" Kurt repeated with an incredulous tone. "I…Blaine, we wouldn't ever…lie to each other."

Kurt didn't seem to notice his own hypocrisy but from the glare Blaine shot him, it seemed that the other Warbler did. "Oh, we _wouldn't_?"

As if by divine providence, the door opened loudly at that very moment. Both Blaine and Kurt turned to glare in the direction of the disturber, and both of their expressions changed drastically in a matter of seconds. Kurt's took on a look of shocked disbelief while Blaine's morphed into one of near-disgust.

The familiar face looked around the room, gaze finally settling on the Warbling duo. The grin never left his face, and he didn't look shocked for a moment as he began to walk toward them.

"Kurt," he said, tone pleasant. "When I said I would be seeing you soon…"

"Wh-wh-what are you doing here?" Kurt stuttered out, trying to regain his composure. Between the new addition to the classroom and the bruises on Blaine's arms, it was exceptionally difficult.

"You aren't glad to see me?" Jordan feigned concern, placing a hand over his chest.

"No…I mean, I didn't…I didn't say that. I'm just…uh, _why_ are you here?" He was still having express trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that The Ritz's Billy Flynn was standing in his music class.

"I go here, of course. I have for more than a week. Honestly, I'm insulted that you never noticed."

Just like that, the pieces clicked together in Kurt's mind.

"_Who's that?"_

"_Transfer, I guess…can't see him."_

"_You get a freebie Jordan, seeing as this is your first week."_

That Jordan and this Jordan were one in the same. For a moment, Kurt merely sat stunned, with his mouth hanging half open. "Actually," Blaine spoke up, leaning forward. His voice held a foreign tone of annoyance, even hostility. "We were just in the middle of something, so if you would kindly go…"

The blue-eyed performer held up his hands in surrender. "Don't have to ask me twice. Class is about to start anyway; I'll see you guys afterward."

Alcott was indeed coming to the front of the class. Blaine pulled out his notebook and set it down with a loud, agitated clap. "Blaine," Kurt warned, a part of his mind retreating with Jordan to the back of the classroom. "This conversation isn't over. We need to talk."

"You're right," Blaine agreed, eyes never leaving Kurt's. "We do."

* * *

When Jordan had said that he would see Blaine and Kurt afterward, he was not merely expressing the proposal for the sake of politeness. The two angry teenagers packed silently and were walking together in silence toward the door only to find Jordan waiting on the other side of its frame.

"You never did introduce me to your friend, Kurt," Jordan said without prelude, his demeanor annoyingly pleasant.

"This is...Blaine."

"Do you two know each other?" Blaine asked flatly, his gaze never wavering from Jordan.

"No," Kurt answered, too quickly. This drew both Blaine and Jordan's gazes, though the latter was quick to smirk. "No, not really. Anyway, Blaine and I have to go do…we just have to go." Kurt placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder and pushed him in the opposite direction, taking care to avoid grabbing either of his injured arms again.

"We'll catch up later, Kurt!" The countertenor winced as the words that contradicted his previous claim left Jordan's mouth, but he kept walking forward until Blaine halted.

He had stopped suddenly and now stood with arms crossed, in silence. Kurt took it upon himself to lead the conversation, shoving all thoughts of the stage actor out of his mind and focusing on what was really important: what had happened to Blaine.

"Tell me the truth, Blaine," he started. "What happened to –"

"The truth," he repeated, throwing his hands in the air. "_You_ want the truth. You of all people want to hear the truth."

"Yes," stressed Kurt in vain, still oblivious. "I want you to be able to tell me anything without hesitation."

"And I want that from you," shot back Blaine quickly, desperation lacing his voice. "I thought we had that."

"We did," Kurt said slowly. "I mean, we _do_. We do, we do have that." He repeated the words as if saying them multiple times would make them true, but Blaine just shook his head and turned away from Kurt, facing the side. "Why can't you just –"

"Why can't _you_ just tell me the truth?" Blaine interrupted loudly, causing several heads to turn in passing. All Kurt noticed was how distressed the other Warbler appeared to be. "Why did _you_ lie? Why are you lying, even now?"

"I'm not…I didn't."

"Yes, you did! You did just now when you said you didn't know whatshisface – Billy Flynn!" Kurt's face went carefully blank. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Tell you…what?"

"That you sang with him," Blaine said hopelessly. "Why didn't you just say something? I mean…why did you _lie?_"

"Maybe because I thought you wouldn't react well. Kind of like you're reacting right _now_."

"But that's just because you didn't tell the truth!" Blaine insisted. "Why didn't you tell me _then_?"

Kurt stood silent for a moment before answering. "Because I didn't want you to think I meant anything by it. I didn't know who it was, and he was singing a duet _alone_. It wasn't anything."

"You're right," Blaine agreed simply. "At least that's what I _would_ have thought - that it was nothing. But the fact that you had to lie about it…what does _that_ say about what it does or doesn't mean? Or rather what _you_ thought it meant."

"It says what _you_ mean to me," Kurt answered, his voice rising in return. "It says what I want you to think of me and what I don't. This leads me to the only important thing here, which is you and what happened to your arms."

"I told you," Blaine said in a monotone. "It isn't anything. It was an accident."

"An accident?" Kurt repeated softly, drawing his arms around himself. "Right."

Blaine was quiet for a minute. "So…now what?" Kurt merely shrugged his shoulders helplessly, still averting his eyes. Blaine sighed and took a step down the hall. "I'm leaving. Just…please try to see where I'm coming from here, Kurt…what this must look like for me." He paused again, eyes softening as he looked at his friend. "God, Kurt…sometimes, you really just don't see what's right in front of your face." With that, he walked off down the hall.

Fighting down a tangled bunch of emotions, Kurt slumped down on the wall and sat with his head in his hands, not caring about the strange looks he got from the people who passed.

"Ooooh," drawled a voice, clearly directed at Kurt. "So, now your boyfriend's mad at you. Is that my fault?" When Kurt looked up, Jordan was smiling hopefully, as if he wished that it really _was_ his fault.

"It has nothing to do with you," Kurt growled, standing up and snatching his bag from the ground where he had set it down. "And…he isn't my boyfriend."

"But you want him to be," Jordan surmised, following Kurt as he set off down the hall. "Weird way to win someone over, don't you think? A shouting match."

"Has someone been _evesdropping_?"

"I didn't exactly have to do any sneaking around to hear what you were saying," Jordan defended himself. "Maybe you didn't notice in the midst of your heated passionate brawl, but you weren't exactly whispering your discrepancies to each other." He stopped talking for a moment, though he was still tagging along after Kurt.

"I don't understand," Kurt said suddenly, stopping abruptly and looking at Jordan with a puzzled expression. "I just don't…how can you be here when you're a stage actor, in a real theatre?"

"Talent chooses you," Jordan said assuredly. "Not the other way around, and it doesn't account for age. I auditioned right before I turned eighteen and the company hired me, that's it. I'm just here to finish out my last year of school and then I'm gone."

"But you're in the junior –"

"Yeah, yeah," he interrupted loftily. "Some rigid semantic in the transfer; I didn't have the junior elective GE covered from my old school so they stuck me in there."

Kurt scoffed. "Well don't spare me your condescension," he said sarcastically.

"You and them are two wholly different entities," Jordan clarified, charming smile working its way onto his face. "Even your boyfriend, Shane –"

"Blaine."

"_Whatever_. His song last week wasn't bad. I certainly wasn't expecting it. I only wish I had been there to see yours." Kurt blushed. _If only he had been..._

"We're Warblers," Kurt told him with some measure of pride. Jordan's foreignness was aligning Kurt's sympathies with Dalton and the Warblers more than anything else had before - for the first time, he felt like he was on the inside talking to someone who was not. "Of course he's good."

"Warblers," Jordan repeated, as if testing the word out on his tongue. "Hmm. Well, I'm glad that there will be at least a few people who can keep pace with me."

"How did they even _hire_ you?" Kurt asked, changing the subject abruptly once again. "I mean…you're a kid!"

"A little grey in my hair, makeup on my face and stick me in a vintage suit and I can be whoever they want me to be," Jordan spoke with the air of someone who had every reason to be overly confident. " 'Throw 'em a fake and a finagle', you know that, Kurt."

More angering than the fact that Jordan's confidence was grossly abounding was that Kurt _did_ know that. His similarity to Jordan was something that Kurt loathed to come to terms with, even as the other boy was throwing it in his face. The fact that there was someone like Jordan in his proximity that he had the power to befriend normally would have proved an exciting opportunity for Kurt, but the added component – that he'd initiated this riff between him and Blaine – deterred that emotion.

He let out an agitated sigh and reached up to rub his eyes. "He'll forgive you," Jordan said abruptly.

"_Excuse me_?"

"He'll forgive you," he repeated himself. "But I mean, it's obvious why he was mad." Kurt returned his stare blankly, and Jordan scoffed. "He's threatened…by _me_. Then of course, who wouldn't be?"

"You are horridly assured of yourself," Kurt pointed out, his anger dulling into intrigue.

"I have every reason to be." His words were currently sounding logical to Kurt; although in a right mind anyone else would have been put off by them. "Don't I?"

Kurt didn't respond, and judging by his smirk, Jordan seemed to take his silence as an affirmative answer. "I'll see you around." Jordan smiled softly and turned to walk away.

"I'll…see you." Kurt whispered the words too quietly for the other teenager to hear.

* * *

The rest of the day could not have inched by at a slower pace. In the other Monday class that Kurt had with Blaine, Literature, the two sat apart and did not speak throughout the entire period. During the lunch period, Blaine stalked off to go eat with Wes and David while Kurt sat moodily in the midst of a group of junior Warblers.

After lunch period, Kurt felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned around to see Wes. "Hey Kurt…"

"Wes, I'm sorry," Kurt told him preemptively. "I don't want to talk about it."

"So you guys _are_ fighting?" The senior's expression was worried. "But…_why?_ I talked to Blaine Saturday around noon, after he got back from Lima, and he seemed so happy. I thought that…maybe you guys – "

"If you find out what's wrong," Kurt said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Be sure to come find me and tell me, because he sure as hell isn't telling me anything himself."

"What…what do you mean?"

Kurt observed Wes' genuine surprise and resolved that the council member did _not_ know about Blaine's 'accident'. Well, at least he wasn't the only one being lied to. "It's just a…thing, Wes," Kurt told him tiredly. "It'll blow over…I hope."

"So do I," agreed Wes after a moment of silence. "I really do. I don't know if anyone has told you, but Blaine's never grown so close to someone as fast as he did with you. I just hope you're right." He clapped Kurt's shoulder lightly with a reassuring squeeze before he left to go to his next class.

* * *

When Kurt got into his car after school, he sat unmoving in the driver's seat for a few minutes. Taking a deep breath, he looked up to see a black haired head bobbing away from him in the crowd, as if Blaine had been coming to say something to him but thought better of it halfway and turned around to leave to his own car.

Kurt watched Blaine slip into the driver seat of his own car and their eyes made brief contact before Blaine looked away. A constricting, almost nauseous feeling rose in Kurt's chest in response to the briefness of their glance and Blaine's reaction to it.

He looked around his car quickly, self-consciously. After assuring himself that there was nobody walking around, nobody to hear him even through rolled up windows, Kurt looked back to where Blaine buckled his seat belt and sung a few experimental lines, sadness filling his tone.

_One more kiss could be the best thing_

…_One more lie could be the worst_

He couldn't tear his eyes away from Blaine's distant figure in his car. Kurt could feel that constriction move up to his heart, and in that moment he wished infinitely that he could take back the last few days and do them all over again, fix everything that he had messed up so carelessly.

_And all these thoughts are never resting_

_And you're not something I deserve_

Why had Blaine reacted that way? Couldn't he _see_ that Kurt didn't want to lose him over nothing? Couldn't he see that Kurt hadn't wanted him to think he liked anyone else, anyone but him?

_In my head there's only you now_

_This world falls on me_

_In this world there's real and make believe_

_And this seems real to me_

Now this was _his_ problem. He had to deal with both Blaine and Jordan, and make the former see his intentions as they had been in reality. Reality…maybe he hadn't lied only to keep Blaine blissful and ignorant. Maybe Blaine was _right_, maybe the fact that he had felt the need to lie was more telling than anything. But how could that be? He'd known the other boy for almost no time – he hardly knew him at all! Blaine was someone he'd known for months, someone he was closer with than anyone else, his best friend.

_You love me but you don't know who I am_

_I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand_

_And you love me but you don't know who I am_

Blaine didn't believe him though. He didn't _understand_. Not like Jordan, who had immediately seen through his comment about Blaine and seemed to know just what to say to confuse Kurt enough into alleviating his temper.

_So let me go_

_Let me go_

He looked up to where Blaine's car had been and he saw the rumble that meant the engine had started.

_I dream ahead to what I hope for_

_And turn my back on loving you_

Blaine pulled the car out of the spot and began to roll forward, leaving Kurt to feel as if he'd been left behind…though he was certainly the one pushing away.

_How can this love be a good thing_

_When I know what I'm going through_

Kurt turned on his own car in a vain attempt to keep Blaine's in view.

_In my head there's only you now_

_This world falls on me_

_In this world there's real and make believe_

_And this seems real to me_

He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, voice operating on overdrive as his heart seemed to follow Blaine as he drove away.

_And no matter how hard I try_

_I can't escape these things inside I know_

_I know..._

_When all the pieces fall apart_

_You will be the only one who knows_

_Who knows_

Kurt rolled to a stop at the light before turning on to the freeway, watching Blaine cross the overpass to his own home in Westerville. He bit his lip as the car left his line of sight. What had happened to mess things up so abruptly? Kurt could only think of Blaine's expression as he'd left him there in the hall, so quickly usurped by Jordan and his intervention.

_You love me but you don't know who I am_

_I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand_

_And you love me but you don't know who I am_

_So let me go_

_Just let me go…_

The light turned from red to green, and Kurt took his foot off of the brake to continue ahead with the moving traffic.

* * *

_Let Me Go - 3 Doors Down_


	8. Chapter 8 :: HotBlooded

EIGHT:

Kurt was unusually quiet that afternoon and night, which was far enough from the norm that Finn took notice. Resolving to get to the bottom of his stepbrother's gloom, the football player began to help Kurt with the dishes after dinner, despite the fact that it was not his night to do so.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked him, attempting to take a plate from his hands. "You're the latter half of the week, you know that."

"Just helping out, dude," Finn told him, extracting the plate from Kurt's grip once more and taking it and a handful of others to the sink. "Chill. If it'll make you feel better, you can do the actual _washing_ part." He picked up a rag that would suffice for drying the things that couldn't fit in the dishwasher.

"Hmm," Kurt murmured suspiciously. "What's your motive?"

"No motive," Finn insisted, holding his hands outstretched. "Just wanted to…you know, talk and stuff. See what's up."

"What's up?" Kurt repeated, turning on the hot water faucet.

"You just seem a little down –"

"Ah, here we go…"

"Ever since you got home from school today, and I was sort of wondering…what happened?" Finn looked at his new brother hopefully, as if his simple plea would be enough to get Kurt to spill his guts. In all honesty Kurt was tempted to say everything at once so he wouldn't be bottling it inside of him anymore, but he knew that would only end in disaster.

"Just got in a little argument with Blaine," he said simply, eyes fixated on the running water. "I'm sure by the week's end everything will be back to normal."

At the sound of Blaine's name, Finn straightened up visibly. "Blaine," he repeated the name suspiciously. "Why? What happened? Was it something about Friday? Did something happen Friday night? Because I swear to God, Kurt –"

"No, no, nothing happened," Kurt hissed hurriedly, making a shushing noise to keep Finn's voice down. "Don't be so paranoid about that."

"Then _what_?"

"Not like it's any of your _business_," Kurt said pointedly, glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. "It's this…new kid at Dalton. I met him before, at the theatre."

"Okay," Finn said slowly, wringing his so far unused dish cloth in his hands. "I don't get the problem."

Not believing that he was actually telling Finn all of this, Kurt continued. "My point _exactly_. I might have gotten separated from Blaine and run into the other boy backstage and sung something with him –"

"Uh, _why?_" Finn interrupted. "Just randomly? Dude, that's a little weird, I would be creeped out too."

"But _why?_" Kurt demanded, feeling the childish urge to stomp his foot in indignation.

"Maybe because you two are practically a thing," Finn spoke up, shocking Kurt into complete silence. "I mean, you do stuff together on Friday nights – _date_ night - you're always together, you talk about him all the time, and it's kinda obvious that you aren't cool with the friend zone." Kurt lifted a hand to his face to cover his mortified expression. "I think he was probably trying to send you a message by asking you to go to the play, and you went out and did whatever with another dude."

"Sang," Kurt said through clenched teeth. "Not 'whatever'. Just sang."

"Whatever it _was_," Finn continued, waving a hand. "You were in the New Directions long enough to know that most of the time, a song isn't _just_ a song."

"But it was just a song," Kurt said with wide eyes.

"Apparently he didn't think so." Finn began drying the first of the dishes with a shrug.

Kurt stood silent for a moment, observing Finn curiously. "He didn't _call_ you and tell you to advocate for him, did he?"

"No, Kurt. God, I'm not a messenger pigeon."

"But you're _my_ stepbrother," he pointed out, becoming more annoyed by the minute. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"I am. I'm always on your side." This shut Kurt up quickly. "Just sounds like an avalanching clusterfuck to me." Kurt _tsk_ed in indignation, muttering something about 'uncouth language'. "One that could have been avoided."

"_You_ are giving me relationship advice?" Kurt asked in disbelief.

"I thought you said you were just friends," Finn pointed out, small grin forming on his lips, which only grew along with Kurt's blush. "Anyways, see it as me having learned from my mistakes and I am now passing on my knowledge."

"I'll talk to him tomorrow," Kurt said, mainly to appease Finn. "Would you like me to record the conversation so you can review it later and give me pointers for next time?"

"I don't think that will be necessary," Finn answered, playing along. He laughed, shaking his head and shoving Kurt slightly. "Get out of here; I got the rest of this."

"Finn, are you sure? I don't mind, it is my job after all."

"Go, before I tell Burt about Friday," Finn said threateningly, pointing his finger out of the kitchen.

"You're using that as blackmail for getting me out of the dishes?" Kurt asked wonderingly. "Your ways are strange to me."

Finn just shook his head dramatically and waved Kurt out of the room. The latter began to walk out feeling considerably better than he had before, but turned at the last moment. "Hey, Finn? I…have a question."

"Shoot," said his half-brother, not turning from the sink. Kurt was silent long enough that Finn turned around to see if the former was still standing there. "Kurt? What is it now?"

"I'm not sure," he explained. "That's the problem. Something might be wrong, but I just don't know. What would you do if you thought something might be…happening to one of your friends? Something bad, something they don't tell people."

Finn's expression immediately sobered, and he observed Kurt squarely. "Confront them about it, I suppose. You said 'might'…so it might be nothing at all."

"He says it's nothing," Kurt affirmed, voice quieting significantly. "But he was upset already. I have no idea, I really don't."

"Well if you're going to accuse someone of the thing it _sounds_ like you're trying to accuse them of, I would think that you'd better be sure." Finn's gaze left Kurt to settle on the floor.

"Right," Kurt said with a nod. "Right. I'll find out; I just have to look into it a little…I suppose. And Finn?" The taller teen looked up at Kurt from the point he had been staring at on the ground. "Can you not tell anyone about this? Any of it, but especially the last thing…I don't want to be spreading around gossip that might not be true."

"It's all safe with me," the football player affirmed with a nod.

Smiling in response, Kurt turned around again and finally left the room.

* * *

Wednesday morning dawned stormy and freezing. A tired and rather disgruntled Kurt rose from bed, glaring at the early morning darkness outside. Rolling his shoulders a few times, he made his way over to the vanity mirror. Almost subconsciously, he ripped the next sheet off of his day-by-day calendar, only glancing at the date after he'd already discarded yesterday's page in a nearby wastepaper bin. Inwardly, he heaved a sigh.

The ninth of February. That meant that one of the worst days of the year was only five days away, next Monday. The brief thought of Blaine slipped through the countertenor's mind, but it left just as quickly. Blaine would never want to spend that day with him, especially after what had happened. Besides, Blaine obviously didn't feel the same way about him that he did for Blaine. He'd blundered through his feelings for the other boy in an obscenely obvious way, Kurt thought. If Blaine reciprocated even the littlest bit, something would have happened.

In attempting to move his thoughts away from Blaine, they briefly touched upon Jordan: the sapphire-eyed performer with the disgustingly large ego. Shaking his head, Kurt quickly reprimanded himself for the traitorous thought. He didn't even know if they were playing for the same team, he was being _ridiculous._

Trying one last time to get his wandering thoughts back on track, Kurt quickly shrugged on his Dalton uniform, making sure his tie was tightened to perfection before grabbing his blazer and exiting his room, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Blaine lay in his bed, simply listening. He was holding his blankets pulled close to his chin, and he remained perfectly still underneath them. The lights in the room were out, leaving it nearly black in the winter morning, but the lead Warbler's eyes were peeled wide open, affixed to the lock he'd left dangling open the night before.

He hardly dared to breathe as he heard the creak of the floor outside his closed door. His heart pounded in his chest, but he did not hear the following turn of the doorknob. After a moment, the same floorboard creaked and he heard footsteps patter down the stairs once again.

Finally able to let out his pent up breath, Blaine heaved a sigh and finally got out of his covers, shivering as his bare chest was exposed to the winter air. He walked over to his cabinet, equipped with a large mirror on top, and grimaced as he saw his reflection.

Calmly, he reached for the skin-colored cover up and dabbed some onto a sponge before beginning to rub it into the purpled skin around the base of his neck and across his shoulders. He wouldn't make the same mistake that he had two days ago, on Monday. Kurt had seen his wrists. Blaine didn't know how much of the truth Kurt guessed but the marks of strongly gripping fingers were distinctive.

It made Blaine sick to his stomach that he had to lie to Kurt, but he didn't see a way around it. He knew that if he admitted anything to the other boy, he would tell someone, and that was the _last_ thing that he needed right now.

"Blaine?" A soft voice came from the door he hadn't heard open.

The Warbler tensed instinctively for a moment, but relaxed when he recognized the voice. "Come on in," he told his mother, equally quiet.

The small, trim woman entered the room slowly, almost hesitantly, expression not changing when she saw what her son was doing. "Let me," was all she said, taking the small sponge and starting to carefully apply the skin colored cover-up where Blaine had left off.

"Blaine," she began after a moment.

"Don't, mom," he interrupted her. "You don't have to."

"You know that these sorts of things…it's just an accident. It isn't anyone's fault."

"…Right."

"You haven't told anyone about this have you?" Her voice, tinged with a slight Filipino accent, suddenly turned wary.

"Of course not," replied the young Anderson, looking down and wincing as his mother pressed too hard at a reddish-purple bruise on his shoulder.

"Good, good," she said with a nod. "You know that this…doesn't mean anything. He loves you, Blaine. You know that. And besides, it's _you_ who have to be more careful. You can't just go around talking about…_mooning_ around about –"

"_Don't_," he repeated in a stronger tone. "Don't bring anyone else into this."

"Fine," the woman responded patiently. "You know what you did. You know I don't _like_ watching these sorts of things happen. I love you so much, Blaine. I wish you two wouldn't butt heads so often."

"Speaking of that," Blaine said, attempting an offhand tone. "Is he…I mean, has he…"

"Left for work," she replied knowingly. "Yes."

The boy didn't say anything, just nodded his head once and shrugged on the white shirt that went under his Dalton button-up. "I need to change," he said, bluntly hinting for his mother to leave.

"Don't take this to school with you," she advised him. Blaine briefly wondered how you were supposed to leave behind bruised skin and memories that were forever imprinted in your mind, though he knew her words to be only figurative. "Let it go."

Softly at first, her voice rose in song, shocking Blaine into looking up at his mother.

_Many nights we've prayed_

_With no proof anyone could hear_

_In our hearts, a hopeful song_

_We barely understood_

Eyebrows knitting together slightly, Blaine observed his mother standing in the middle of his room, now in song. It had been her who first taught him to sing. She would sing to him constantly when he was a child, and the habit had wound up rubbing off on him.

Now, she smiled at him and nodded encouragingly. Blaine wondered, not for the first time, exactly what his mother thought of him and their situation. She was always there to comfort him _after_ the fact, but she was also careful to never voice an opinion.

_Now we are not afraid_

_Although we know there's much to fear_

_We were moving mountains_

_Long before we knew we could_

A swell of emotion rose through the Warbler as he placed where he knew the song from. He'd watched the accompanying movie often when he was younger, and he remembered his mother being present on more than one occasion, though never his father. She had been better about being home when he was younger. As he'd grown up, that had changed.

_There can be miracles_

_When you believe_

_Though hope is frail_

_It's hard to kill_

Not able to fight the urge any longer, Blaine crossed the distance to his mother in a few strides and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face into her shoulder and holding her tightly.

_Who knows what miracles_

_You can achieve_

_When you believe_

_Somehow you will_

She stroked his hair and patted his back carefully, still singing softly. The elder Anderson smiled when Blaine pulled back, dry-eyed, and put both of her hands on his shoulders before kissing his forehead softly.

_You will when you believe_

* * *

Blaine parked his car in the Dalton lot. He had finished dressing after his mother left: he'd carefully gelled back his almost unmanageable curls and thrown on his blazer.

He looked out over the brick walled buildings of Dalton from the safety of his car, the song that his mother had sung playing in his head even as it was soon upon his lips.

_In this time of fear_

_When prayer so often proves in vain_

_Hope seemed like the summer birds_

_Too swiftly flown away_

What had she meant by it? The obstinate part of his mind was annoyed that she would sing of him being afraid, but the logical part reminded it that she knew him better than anyone else, better even than Kurt. Maybe the focus wasn't supposed to be on the fear. Maybe the point was what was supposed to be born from the fear. Maybe it was what _he_ had to do.

_And now I'm standing here_

_With heart so full I can't explain_

_Seeking faith and speaking words_

_I never thought I'd say_

Blaine opened the door to his car and stepped out, careful to avoid the landmines of puddles. He looked up from the ground to see Kurt a small way off, alone. He was beginning to raise his hand in a wave when he remembered everything that had happened the other day. Kurt was still angry with him. He said that he'd lied…and he _had,_but hadn't Kurt done the same thing? Not to mention Blaine had lied for a reason, as least to his mind.

_There can be miracles_

_When you believe_

_Though hope is frail_

_It's hard to kill_

Taking a deep breath, the Warbler took a step toward campus and the first class of their Mondays and Wednesdays: music.

_Who knows what miracles_

_You can achieve_

_When you believe_

_Somehow you will_

His feet carried him through the hall, the song sung quietly, almost under his breath; it was a soft encouragement that pushed him down the hall and toward Alcott's classroom.

_You will when you believe_

Blaine only paused for a moment outside the room before turning the knob and entering. Kurt was sitting in his usual spot, next to Blaine's. They had avoided each other the entire day yesterday and the day before, and Blaine was tired of it.

He walked up to Kurt, stopping in front of him. "Is this seat taken?" He asked, voice sounding considerably more uncertain then he would have liked.

Kurt stared at him, surprise etched upon his face before it transformed into a grin. "Actually yes," he responded. Blaine felt his heart sink dramatically. "My best friend always sits here. But…" he paused. "He was a little upset the other day. Do you think he'd forgive me?" Hopeful eyes stared at Blaine, and the latter couldn't help but smile.

"I'm sure he wouldn't be able to help it," he answered, finding that he was quite enjoying this back and forth. "He was probably more worried that you'd never speak to him again."

"That would never happen," Kurt promised quietly, eyes flicking toward the chair in expectation and then following Blaine's figure as he said down. "Never – no matter what."

"Well, I'm glad." The stupid grin was not leaving his face, as much as Blaine tried to wipe it off in exchange for something more suitable. Thankfully, it was that moment that Alcott called the class to attention. Blaine gratefully turned his attention to her theory lesson, for he felt the need to say something magnificent and stunning but his mind was coming up blank.

For the moment, he was content to sit there next to Kurt, in silence.

When the class ended, the two Warblers rose together in unspoken agreement and walked together toward the door. Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw Jordan walk up to Mrs. Alcott, but he quickly turned away. The last thing he needed was for Blaine to catch him staring at the performer.

* * *

Jordan watched Kurt and Blaine get up and leave together, and the corners of his mouth tipped down slightly. Hadn't they been giving each other the silent treatment _yesterday_? They couldn't have made up that quickly, could they?

He banished all exasperation from his mind as he approached the young teacher, who was tapping her papers into order. "Mrs. Alcott?" He asked pleasantly. He smiled at her as she looked up and acknowledged him. "Hi. Listen, I heard that you co-direct the Warblers. Could that be true?"

"Yes," she said slowly, wise to where the conversation was heading. "You're correct."

"You know I just transferred not long ago, and I was wondering if the Warblers were open for tryouts."

"We never say no to new tryouts," Alcott answered, tipping her head. "But you'll have to be voted in by the council members, and approved by both me and my husband."

"How would I go about that, ma'am?"

"Warblers practice every day after school, except for Fridays. Come by today at the beginning, and we'll see what happens." Mrs. Alcott smiled knowingly and nodded her head in dismissal.

"I will," Jordan promised, returning her smile. "Thank you, and I'll see you then." Smiling to himself with sapphire eyes gleaming, Jordan exited the room.

* * *

Kurt left his French class, the last class of the day, and crossed the grassy courtyard to the music hall where the Warblers practiced. Blaine coming over to him during music that morning had not been something he was expecting. It was a pleasant surprise and it had broken the tension that developed between the two after Blaine had walked away from him on Monday.

There had still been that hovering tension in the air, those unspoken words and that unresolved business, but neither of them mentioned it. Kurt wondered if he would ever have to address the Jordan issue again. Of course, he _was_ going to talk about the bruises again. Jordan was a mere triviality compared to that. They could be evidence of something that Kurt didn't even want to contemplate.

He pushed open the large double doors leading into the building only to be assaulted by the sight of none other than Jordan Aaron himself, standing just inside the doorway.

"About time," he said, falling in step beside Kurt. "I've been waiting ages."

"How did you know I'd be here?" His tone wasn't totally bereft of hostility.

"The Warblers practice here after school."

"So now you're following me?"

"Trying out," Jordan corrected, shocking Kurt into a gape. "I figure you could use someone like me in the club."

Kurt sighed and closed his eyes briefly, resisting the urge to rub his temples. "Wonderful."

"Well, you're in _such_ a good mood today," Jordan said pleasantly. "Guess getting back together and making up with your boyfriend will do that to a person."

"He's not…my boyfriend," Kurt said sharply, for what he sincerely hoped was the last time. "Stop saying it like that, like you're daring me to confirm it. What is _with_ you?"

"Well _sorry_." Jordan fell silent as they continued down the halls.

"What team do you bat for?" Kurt asked out of the blue, surprising himself with the question. Why did _he_ care?

Jordan seemed to wonder the same thing, though a smile started to spread across his face. "I don't bat for either team exclusively," he said, holding up his hands. "I'm bi – best of both worlds."

"Don't start singing that," Kurt told him menacingly, grimacing as he spoke.

"Why does it matter?" That annoying grin was back on the performer's face and Kurt had an almost irresistible urge to either slap it off or return it with one of his own. "Don't tell me you _care_?"

"I was wondering why you keep following me," Kurt said with false sweetness. "Now at least I have a guess."

"I'm extremely picky," he warned. "And besides, you have your boyfriend, Blaire."

"_Blaine_," Kurt corrected, nerves completely on the edge. "_And he is not my boyfriend, so stop saying that._"

"Oh good," Jordan said as they approached the music hall. "I guess that means you're free next Monday."

"Monday…but that's –"

"Valentine's Day, yes, how perceptive of you," he said quickly, waving a hand in dismissal.

"I…uh…I," Kurt stuttered, completely caught off guard. _Why can't I say no?_ He thought in panic. _Why can't I just say no and be done with it?_

"Great," said Jordan with a wide grin that was no doubt meant to be charming. They'd reached the music hall, and Kurt was still completely speechless. He merely gaped when Jordan spoke again. "Listen, we'll talk about this later. I have some people to wow. Also, don't let that pretty jaw draw along the floor, Kurt, it's so unbecoming."

Hardly able to believe that he was currently in real life and _not_ dreaming, Kurt followed the other boy into the music hall and sat down amongst the other Warblers while Jordan remained standing off to the side, slightly in front of the rest of the group.

He had no idea how much time passed before Blaine rushed into the room and sat at his side. "What's going on?" He asked, glaring at Jordan. "Why is _he_ here?"

"Trying out," said Kurt, tone still wondering. "I mean…I guess…" Blaine made a sound of dissent but said nothing more.

The Alcott couple came in a moment later, looking proper as ever and color coordinating in a way that could not have been coincidental. "Warblers," greeted Mrs. Alcott's husband, Oliver. His deep voice echoed through the room with ease. He was her equal in age, neither of the two could have been past their mid-twenties, and he possessed a shock of sandy hair cut short, countered by extremely dark eyes. "Now I know that all of you are eager to hammer out our set list for Regionals, but we have one thing to get out of the way first."

"We have a new potential Warbler," his wife continued, gesturing to Jordan, who inclined his head. "Jordan Aaron, a senior. So Jordan, you've prepared something?"

"I have," he answered, holding up a CD. Vaguely, Kurt wondered when he would have had the time to make that.

"Wonderful, just there," she said, gesturing to the CD player. "After this presentation, the rest of you will get together and present your opinions to the Warbler Council, who will make the final decision on acceptance. Oliver and I will also converse afterward." She paused to make sure that everyone had comprehended her information before turning to Jordan. "Anytime you're ready."

"Always ready," he said with a chuckle, pressing the play button. Immediately, the performer's aura palpably changed. He was no longer kidding around; this was a performance and he planned on delivering. A simple sounding drum beat followed by electric guitar began to flow from the speakers, a tune that Kurt did not recognize until the older boy started singing. Upon hearing the lyrics, his heart positively stopped.

_Well I'm hot-blooded, check it and see_

_I got a fever of a hundred and three_

The group of Warblers had sat up straighter in their seats from the first note, and several of them were looking on with gaping mouths. It wasn't only that Jordan's voice was amazing in a way that was exceedingly rare, which it was. He emitted a certain type of energy when he sang; he was completely taken away in the music, submerged in the song. Kurt had noticed the same thing when they had sung together; it was why he had followed the sound of his voice in the first place.

And now he was looking directly at Kurt, a horribly mischievous smile in place on his visage.

_Come on baby, do you do more than dance?_

_I'm hot-blooded, I'm hot-blooded_

Kurt had never wanted to sink into a chair as much as he did at that very moment. He would have gladly perished on the spot, if only to avoid the curious gazes of the other Warblers, not to mention the critical one of a very specific Warbler in his immediate vicinity.

_You don't have to read my mind_

_To know what I have in mind_

_Honey, you oughta know_

The performer pointed into the crowd – a place in Kurt's general direction – as he sang the last line. The countertenor, ruffled by Jordan's attention, turned to see Blaine's reaction. The head Warbler was looking reluctantly impressed, but moreover he was looking at Kurt as if he'd let him down in an unbelievable way.

"Oughta know what, Kurt?" He asked in a monotone, folding his arms across his chest.

"I – I…I don't know what's –"

"_Shh_," came a hiss from behind them. Kurt silenced himself and looked up to see Mr. Alcott giving him a disapproving shake of the head. Silence was always expected during performances, and Kurt knew that he would have wanted it during one of his. That thought in his mind, he silenced his vocal chords though he desperately wanted to explain.

_Now you move so fine, let me lay it on the line_

_I wanna know what you're doing after the show_

It really was astounding, Kurt pondered. That Jordan could sing a rock song to near-perfection and sing show tunes just as flawlessly.

_Now it's up to you, we can make a secret rendezvous_

_Just me and you, I'll show you loving like you never knew_

Kurt thought it was impossible for cheeks to blush harder than his currently were, though Jordan had begun to sing to the larger whole. It didn't help that the other Warblers were bobbing their heads and tapping their feet, some even singing along.

They loved him, just as Jordan had known they would.

_That's why; I'm hot-blooded, check it and see_

_I got a fever of one hundred and three_

_Come on baby, do you do more than dance?_

_I'm hot-blooded, hot-blooded_

The potential Warbler had begun to approach the crowd and he now put his hands on either of the arms of Kurt's chair, leaning close. And God, Kurt noticed how it smelled so crisp, so pepperminty - _no, no, no._

_If it feels alright, maybe you can stay all night_

_Shall I leave you my key?_

He grinned widely and stood up again, shifting his eyes to Blaine as he raised an eyebrow in what could only be called flirtation. Kurt just barely caught the horrified look on his friend's face through his own mask of near-debilitating shock.

_But you've got to give me a sign_

_Come on girl, some kind of sign_

_Are you hot, mama?_

_You sure look that way to me_

Shocked and scandalized did not even begin to describe Blaine's expression. But Jordan backed off again and moved to the other side of the room, where Wes and David sat, among others.

_Are you old enough?_

_Will you be ready when I call your bluff?_

_Is my timing right?_

_Did you save your love for me tonight?_

He circled back around, a lively spring in his step. The Warblers were beginning to clap in rhythm, the song – not to mention the singer – whipping them into frenzy.

_Yeah I'm hot-blooded, check it and see_

_Feel the fever burning inside of me_

_Come on baby, do you do more than dance?_

_I'm hot-blooded, I'm hot blooded, I'm hot_

Jordan got that look in his eye again, the one he'd had when he sung the first few lines to Kurt. He came toward him again, casting a skeptical look at Blaine, and shielding his mouth as if telling Kurt a secret, though his voice remained strong and powerful.

_Now it's up to you, can we make a secret rendezvous?_

_Oh, before we do, we'll have to get away from you know who_

An affronted sound of protest escaped Blaine's lips, and Kurt looked over to see him purse his lips tightly. _That_ was not a good sign. The lead Warbler's face was white as a sheet, and his eyes were trained harshly on the ground.

Kurt was beginning to get a very, _very _bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He and Blaine had just come to some sort of amends based on the fact that neither was dwelling on the Jordan incident any longer.

_Well, I'm hot-blooded, check it and see_

_I got a fever of a hundred and three_

_Come on baby, do you do more than dance?_

_I'm hot-blooded, I'm hot-blooded_

The song finished and there was silence for a moment before the Warblers burst out into a round of cheers and applause.

"Well," said Mr. Alcott, clearly impressed. His wife looked too shocked to speak. "That _was_ impressive. I think at this point the meetings are a mere formality to be honest, but rules are rules. Jordan, if you'll wait here? Warblers, proceed into the next room to discuss while Mrs. Alcott and I talk in the hall."

The Warblers filed out of the music hall, patting Jordan on the back and congratulating him as they went – as if he was already in. He caught Kurt's eye before he left and winked suggestively, causing Kurt to hurry to the next room.

"I think we all know how this vote is going to go," Wes said as the Warblers all settled.

"You don't _know_ anything unless you ask," Blaine murmured, clearly agitated.

"Junior council member Anderson?" Wes questioned, raising an eyebrow. "You obviously have something to say?"

"…We _have_ singers," he pointed out. "A lot of wonderful singers – we don't need to add one more to the pile for the sake of adding one more the pile."

"Were you listening?" A Warbler asked, to a general murmur of agreement. "He obviously isn't just another singer. That in there would guarantee us Regionals."

"Blaine," said Wes patiently. "I think David, Thad and I are at an agreement. We'll vote – your vote does count but it might not sway. We're a team…all those in favor of admitting Jordan Aaron into the Dalton Academy Warblers?"

What appeared to be almost every hand in the room rose almost immediately. Slowly, Kurt put his hand in the air as well. Blaine's chest constricted as he saw the action, and he had to turn away.

"That's it," Wes said, banging the gavel once. "It looks like the Warblers have one more member. Now, let's go out and share the good news." The Warblers filed out, leaving Blaine and Kurt in the room alone.

"I'm sorry," Kurt apologized, not fully knowing what for. "He's a good singer, and this is a competitive club. This doesn't mean anything."

"Sure," Blaine said shortly, walking toward the door. "It's for the team. Right."

The two re-entered the music hall to see the others already congratulating the new Warbler, with the Alcotts looking on brightly. "Well," said Oliver, fighting a smile. "In light of this recent addition, why don't you guys have a little treat and take the day off? Have a little fun?"

Cheers and a few whistles rolled through the crowd, which slowly began to filter out. Kurt and Blaine walked toward where they had left their things, and the former was just picking up his bag when he saw Jordan approaching. He attempted to give a stop signal with his eyes, but apparently it didn't work, as Jordan kept advancing.

"Hey Kurt!" He said brightly.

"Hi…erm, congratulations. Warblers are quite exclusive."

Jordan scoffed, causing Blaine to frown. "Between the three of us, let's not pretend we didn't know I was going to get in right off the bat." Neither of the other two laughed, a fact which seemed to escape the new Warbler. "Anyways Kurt, about Monday – how about we go somewhere right after Warbler practice? Early dinner maybe?" Once again, he seemed to take shocked silence for an affirmative, because he nodded, seeming pleased. "Well good, we have a date. Right, well it was nice seeing you, Blake."

"Blaine –"

"Right." With that, he left the music hall, leaving a silent Kurt and a gaping Blaine behind him.

"It doesn't mean anything," Blaine repeated, hurriedly grabbing his bag and beginning to walk away. "_Of course_."

"Wait…Blaine, wait!" Kurt called, quickly grabbing his things and following his friend. "He…I mean, I didn't say yes, he put those words in my mouth!"

"So you're going to go say no?" He asked, stopping and turning toward Kurt.

"I…" Kurt started but was not able to find words. "I…I mean, I'm not sure. I'm…confused."

"Goodbye Kurt," Blaine said with a shake of the head, turning and beginning to walk once again.

"What's the matter?" Kurt insisted, wanting to stomp his foot like a child. "Why are you mad? What's _wrong_?"

"Oh, no reason," he said, sarcasm dripping from his words. "None at all. _Goodbye Kurt_." This time there was finality in Blaine's tone that Kurt didn't argue with. He just watched his friend walk away.

* * *

_When You Believe - Miriam and Tzipporah (The Prince of Egypt)_

_Hot-Blooded - Foreigner_


	9. Chapter 9 :: Chances

_A/N: __I thought I might give y'all a ballpark figure of how long this fic will probably wind up being - I'd say upward of twenty chapters, there is still LOTS that has to happen!_

_That said, I do hope everyone enjoys this chapter, because it was certainly fun to write! I stayed up into the wee hours of the morning because I was too excited to sleep :D So I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it! The chapter ending was far, far from the original plan - threw me for quite a loop there for awhile - but sometimes you just have to let the characters do their thing and run with it!_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

NINE:

By the end of the week, everybody knew that Blaine and Kurt were in some sort of riff - _again_. They were not ignoring each other as they had been earlier, but their actions were stiff and formal, bereft of the animation and compassion that usually filled them when they were around each other.

To Kurt's mind, this was not his fault in the least. He'd told Blaine that he had not officially said yes to Jordan, the other boy had no right to stomp off like that. But why _shouldn't_ he say yes? If he was being completely honest with himself, it was true: he did feel some measure of affection toward the older teen. He had to be rational with this. Kurt couldn't sit mooning over Blaine forever if nothing was going to happen. He'd made that mistake twice already, and he was quite done with it.

Perhaps he should just attempt to move on, as painful as the thought of giving up on Blaine was. Jordan had asked him _out_, on a real date. Sure, he had done it in a twisted and roundabout way, but no one had ever done that before. Kurt rather liked knowing that he wasn't completely unappealing, forever destined to be the one crushing rather than the one being crushed on – if that was what you could call this.

At any rate, Kurt was not apologizing when he had done nothing wrong. He didn't know what was bothering Blaine, and if the other boy wasn't going to enlighten him, then so be it.

He had been debating all week, and it was the weekend before Valentine's Day when Kurt made up his mind. He was going to dinner with Jordan. One date couldn't hurt; in fact, he had a feeling that it would be quite beneficial. Perhaps he could use the time to decide once and for all where his feelings were going to lie.

Certainly, half the time Jordan annoyed Kurt to the brink of insanity…but the other half of the time, Kurt absorbed his words and actions with a certain measure of fondness. He couldn't help but admire the other boy, already so successful. This would be a good thing, Kurt told himself, no matter how Blaine reacted.

Of course, that brought up the question of _why_, once again. It didn't make sense in Kurt's logic. Blaine had always been the one to tell him to be confident in himself; why was he acting this way now? What did he know that Kurt didn't? And why wouldn't he just _say_ it?

Come Monday morning, Kurt had not changed his mind. He'd seen Jordan a few times in the past week, and though they had talked with complete civility, neither had spoken of Monday again.

Kurt descended the stairs and poked his head into the kitchen, where his father was staring intensely at a cookbook and Carole was reading the newspaper while sipping her morning tea. "Dad?" He asked questioningly.

"Kurt, can you help me out here? What's a dash? Is that like a pinch? Or more than a pinch? They shouldn't make these instructions so subjective…"

"More than a pinch," Kurt answered. "It's supposed to be subjective to account for personal taste preference. Um…I'm not going to be around for dinner tonight, just so you know. I'll be back later."

He began to exit, thinking that Burt might be too engrossed in the cookbook to process the words immediately, therefore giving him time to run away, but Kurt's father was too fast. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said as Kurt tried to back away. "Not so quick there. You know what today is, don't you?"

"Yes," Kurt replied in a mumble, looking fixedly at the table.

"So…are you and Blaine getting dinner or something?" That was Carole's hopeful voice.

"No, actually," Kurt replied, not looking up to see Burt and Carole's matching surprised expressions. "This is…someone else."

"And do we get to meet this someone else?" Burt asked, leaning against the counter.

"Dad, can we not talk about this right now?" Kurt pleaded. "I'm going to be late for class; I don't know how much traffic there'll be."

Burt hardly looked like he wanted to let it go, but with a glance from Carole, he nodded shortly. "Fine. We'll…talk later, okay? Kurt?"

"Yeah dad," he assured his father before escaping out the door. "Whatever you say."

The day progressed in a similar way to the days of last week: Kurt and Blaine remained frigidly civil, sitting together in music but not talking beyond what was necessary. Kurt didn't wait for Blaine to collect his things before he started to leave, but he couldn't have been more than five feet away when Jordan fell into step next to him. If Kurt hadn't known better he would have said that the other student looked almost nervous.

"Hey Kurt," he greeted the younger boy. "We're uh…still on for tonight, right? After Warblers practice?"

Kurt only hesitated for a moment, despite the knowledge that Blaine was five feet away and could hear everything he said. Without thinking on it again, he grinned widely, biting down on his bottom lip softly when he realized his grin might be stretching farther than was proper. "Yeah," he responded. "Of course." _Of course_? He demanded of himself. Had he _needed_ to add that?

"I'm driving," Jordan commented with a flirty grin before exiting the room. Kurt stood still for a moment, wondering if he should turn around. In the end he didn't; Kurt found that he didn't think he could stomach Blaine's reaction. As much as he found Blaine's anger unfounded, Kurt still desperately wanted his friend's approval. To not have it was a constant nagging worry in his mind, a worry that he was doing something wrong.

* * *

As the day progressed, Kurt was beginning to feel something quite strange. If he didn't know better, he would have said that he was beginning to get _butterflies_ in his stomach, like he was nervous. He really did want to impress Jordan. In a way, he almost wanted this to overshadow his feelings toward Blaine, those feelings that he believed would be forever unreciprocated.

He walked into the music hall after school hoping only that this would pass as quickly as possible so that they could get on with it. The waiting had begun to positively _kill _him. He was the first one in the hall, surprisingly, and when he entered the two Alcotts were bent over an explosion of papers.

"Maybe it isn't a good idea," Mr. Alcott muttered. "Maybe we should keep doing things the same way as we always have."

"You know as well as I do that those boys need some change," his wife spoke up. "It's a wonderful idea, Ollie. I say we go ahead with it."

Tactfully, Kurt cleared his throat, causing both of the Alcotts to spin around and look at him. "Oh, Kurt!" Mrs. Alcott exclaimed, jumping up and rushing toward him. She grabbed his sleeve and tugged him over to the mass of papers. "I'm glad you're here, and since you're first one, you can also be the first to go through this little trial of ours."

"Sounds…painful," Kurt said hesitantly.

"No, no," replied the woman with a laugh. "I know you saw how we did Sectionals. Blaine is our lead singer and we picked a song we thought the judges would like to hear."

"It went fine…"

"No, it didn't," Mr. Alcott said seriously, shaking his head. "We tied with New Directions, and I know you're happy about it because that was your old school but it only meant that we were slacking in our performance."

"No, I get it," Kurt replied understandingly. "So…what is this trial then?"

"We have a list of songs here," Mrs. Alcott said, gesturing to the stacks of paper. Upon closer inspection, Kurt saw that it was all sheet music. "And each day we're going to have one of the Warblers pick a song they feel that they can bring something special to and perform it in front of everyone. Once all of you have had a chance, we'll take an anonymous vote and the top vote getters will be our songs and performers for Regionals."

"Everyone will sing a song?" The voice sounded from behind Kurt. The other Warblers had begun to file in. "But that's _not_ how it's done. We've had the same procedure for official performances since 1954 when Perseus Frederickson tried to steal Rupert Sheave's solo in the middle of the Nationals performance, costing them the whole show and sending three Warblers to the hospital due to the brawl that ensued." Kurt turned to roll his eyes at Thad, the senior council member who had spoken.

"That was a long time ago, Thad," Mrs. Alcott said patiently. "If this doesn't work we'll go back to how things used to be, but I think it's a good idea and as the vocal coach I say that it's worth giving it a shot."

"It couldn't hurt," Wes spoke up, earning the approving nods from more than a few members. Oftentimes, Wes' word was law. "As long as Blaine, as our current lead singer, doesn't mind."

The Warbler in question smiled pleasantly and shook his head. "Of course I don't mind. Everyone will have a fair shot this way; we'll all be in equal contention."

"Nicely put, Blaine," commended Mr. Alcott. "Well Kurt, since Bridgette offered you the first spot, would you like to make your selection?"

"Of course." He approached the many sheets laid out across the long table, contemplating them all seriously. He saw several selections from Wicked, among other Broadway shows, but he knew that everyone would expect him to sing one of those. He wanted to do something else, something different. His eyes caught on one particular piece, and his mind immediately took to it. "This one is good," he said, picking up the sheets and handing them to the male Alcott, who manned the piano during performances.

"Ah, good choice," he rumbled with a grin, settling the sheets on the piano stand. "Here, lyrics for you, just in case."

"Thank you." Kurt propped the sheet up on a stand and stood it beside him. He believed he knew all the words but the last thing he needed was to make a total fool out of himself in front of everyone with Regionals on the line. "Whenever you're ready, Mr. Alcott."

The co-director almost immediately began to play the semi-rapid piano notes and Kurt had no trouble sinking into the moment. He lifted his head and began to sing.

_Chances are, when said and done_

_Who'll be the lucky ones_

_Who make it all the way_

The Warblers had fallen quiet in a moment, and they watched in silence as Kurt's angelic voice filled every corner of the music hall. He squeezed his eyes closed and clutched his balled up fists to his chest, over his heart.

_Though you say I could be your answer_

_Nothing lasts forever_

_No matter how it feels today_

Kurt opened his eyes and looked out over the Warblers, many of whom were smiling to themselves or bobbing their heads slightly.

_Chances are we'll find a new equation_

_Chances run away from me_

_Chances are all they hope to be_

His eyes shifted toward Jordan, who had a strange smile on his face. Kurt resolved then and there that he would _never_ understand that boy. Returning the smile, his eyes continued down the line of Warblers until they reached Blaine, who was staring up at Kurt with wide eyes.

_Don't get me wrong I'd never say never_

_Cause though love can change the weather_

_No act of God can pull me away from you_

_I'm just a realistic man_

_A bottle filled with shells and sand_

_Afraid to love beyond what I could lose_

_When it comes to you_

_And though I'll see us through, yeah_

Blaine's jaw had slacked slightly, and if Kurt had been able to see two things at once, he would have seen the slight frown that begun to play on Jordan's lips.

_Chances are we'll find two destinations_

_Chances run away from me_

_Still, chances are more than expectations_

_And possibilities…over me_

He tore his gaze away from Blaine and walked between the chairs and couches arranged in various directions, tilting his head up toward the ceiling.

_Eight to five or two to one_

_Lay your money on the sun_

_Until you crash, what have you done?_

_Is there a better bet than love?_

_What you are is what you bring_

_You gotta cry before you see chances_

_Chances_

There was no better time to reflect on the meaning of words than when you were singing them aloud. Kurt was struck by the parallel they presented, which had perhaps been the reason that the song jumped out at him in the first place.

_Chances lost our hope's torn out pages_

_Maybe this time_

Turning from where he had walked, Kurt unlaced his hands and dropped them to his side as he began toward the front of the music hall. The Warblers' eyes followed him the entire way, no one looking away.

_Chances are we'll be the combination_

_Chances come and carry me_

_Chances are waiting 'til they take it_

_And I can see_

He faced the Warblers and the Alcotts once again, hands extending toward them in the final lines of the song, voice strongly delivering them.

_Chances are the fascination_

_Chances won't escape from me_

_Chances are only what we're living_

_And all I need_

His voice faded off softly, leaving audible silence in its wake. Blaine was the first one to clap, the sound loud and slow before the others joined in, filling the gaps quickly with their own praises. Kurt risked a small smile of gratitude, and the other boy inclined his head, though his mouth remained a straight line.

"Kurt," Mrs. Alcott said, clutching her hand to her chest. "Beautiful, as always."

"I don't think we'll make anyone try to outdo that today," her husband said with a chuckle. "Tomorrow though, everyone should be ready! This was your competition – Kurt set the bar high, gentlemen. Now, off with you. Enjoy whatever plans you have tonight."

Plans… With the proposal of a new set list system for Regionals and being delegated to sing to the Warblers, there had been almost an hour in which Kurt had completely forgotten about the date. The thoughts all came rushing back as a cheerful group of Warblers began to collect their things and leave the hall. Hadn't he just sung about chances? Kurt smiled to himself at the thought. Music had never been more relevant.

"If I didn't think you were going to be a star before," said a voice from behind Kurt.

He spun around and looked at Jordan in surprise. Had that been a _compliment_? It had certainly sounded like one, but for the fact that Jordan himself had said it. "Er…flattered?" Kurt replied, the sentiment tilting up on the end like a question. "Shall we…?"

Jordan didn't answer with words; he tipped his head up with a smirk upon his lips and began to walk out of the room, glancing back halfway to the door to make sure Kurt was following. The two walked out of the music hall and were part of the way down the hallway when a call came from behind them.

"Kurt!" It came, sounding semi-panicked. Kurt turned around to see Blaine standing in the frame of the door leading to the hall. "Can I just…talk to you for a second? Just a second?"

"I…I don't know if that's a good idea," Kurt answered, glancing toward the floor. "We're going somewhere –"

"Reservations really aren't for more than half an hour," Jordan said quickly, shrugging his shoulders. Kurt frowned at him slightly, wondering why he of all people was going along with this…not to mention why he had made a reservation somewhere when Kurt had hardly affirmed that he was going _anywhere_ until today. "It's not a big deal; I'll wait out by the car."

Without waiting for a response, Jordan casually walked off, hands in his pockets. Kurt watched him go with a wide-eyed expression, hardly believing that was the same Jordan he'd gotten to know in the past weeks.

Kurt cleared his throat and crossed his arms as he turned to Blaine, keeping his eyes on anything other than his friend. "What is it, Blaine?"

"Can we step in here?" He asked, gesturing to the music hall. "Just to be out of the hallway."

Wordlessly, Kurt entered the now empty room, raising an eyebrow when Blaine closed the door behind him. "So…"

"You're still going to dinner with that guy?" Blaine asked the question abruptly.

"Yes," Kurt answered slowly. "Seems like I don't actually have a reason not to."

"Oh," Blaine replied, sounding a bit disappointed. "I mean, sure. Yeah, that's…that's great."

"Blaine did you want to say something?" Kurt asked, almost _pleaded_. "Because if you don't have anything to say, I really think I should go."

The black-haired Warbler raised his hands in a peace gesture. "I do…have something to say still." He chuckled hopelessly, absentmindedly running a hand over his hair and freeing the curls of their ordered confines. "Oh Lord, I'm hopeless at this. Okay, Kurt…you know that it's easier to say something if you just sing it, right?"

"I do…"

Blaine's eyes were wide and pleading as he spoke. "So…just listen. _Please._ Just listen. Listen and know that…I mean it, every word. Okay?"

"S-sure," Kurt stuttered, shocked at Blaine's frazzled demeanor.

"Good….good." Blaine cleared his throat and sat down at the piano that the male Alcott had been at earlier. He played a few experimental notes that Kurt was positive he was making up on the fly before his voice sung out, shaking more than a little.

_I shouldn't love you, but I want to_

_I just can't turn away_

_I shouldn't see you, but I can't move_

_I can't look away_

Kurt's heart had risen up so far that he was positive it would pop right out of his throat if not for the hand that was currently clamped securely over his mouth. Every nerve in his being suddenly felt exposed and raw, buzzing with self-conscious and unstable energy. He was surprised that he was still conscious to hear Blaine's voice the next time it sang out, considerably stronger than it had been at first.

_I shouldn't love you, but I want to_

_I just can't turn away_

_I shouldn't see you, but I can't move_

_I can't look away_

Blaine had known from the moment he called Kurt's name in the hallway that there was no turning back. He was doing it once and for all, laying all of his cards out on the table where they could never be misinterpreted again. He was sure he would positively perish from nerves at the first few lines but by the repeat of the first verse, a definite sense of urgency and importance had filled him.

He could do this.

_And I don't know how to be fine when I'm not_

'_Cause I don't know how to make a feeling stop_

Blaine's hands left the keys of the grand piano and pushed against it to move back the stool and make room for him to stand. Music no longer played but neither Blaine nor Kurt would have noticed even if it had been. Kurt was standing stock-still in the same place that he'd been when Blaine began to sing, and Blaine was beginning to move closer toward the other Warbler.

_Just so you know_

_This feeling's taken control of me_

_And I can't help it_

_I won't sit around_

_I can't let him win now_

Kurt lowered his shaking hand from where it had been clasped harshly against his mouth and pressed it instead against his heart, which he could feel pounding against his ribs in a way that was sure to leave a bruise.

_Thought you should know_

_I've tried my best to let go of you_

_But I don't want to_

_I just gotta say it all before I go_

_Just so you know_

Blaine had closed the distance between the two, but refrained from reaching out quite yet. Kurt still seemed to be paralyzed on the spot. Blaine wished he would move, or show some emotion other than sheer shock.

_It's getting hard to be around you_

_There's so much I can't say_

_Do you want me to hide the feelings?_

_And look the other way?_

His eyes never moved from Kurt's, just as Kurt's had never left his. The two Warblers were locked in an unbreakable gaze, unable or unwilling to look away from the other.

_And I don't know how to be fine when I'm not_

'_Cause I don't know how to make a feeling stop_

Unable to resist any longer, Blaine reached and out grabbed the hand that had been on Kurt's chest. He cradled it between two of his own like it was a delicate thing that could be broken at too rough of a touch…because that's what Kurt _was_, and Blaine didn't want anyone else to compromise that, especially after what he'd been through.

_Just so you know_

_This feeling's taken control of me_

_And I can't help it_

_I won't sit around_

_I can't let him win now_

Any longer without breathing and Kurt was completely positive that he would die on the spot. He inhaled a shaky breath, his entire body feeling utterly unstable. Almost every part of him seemed to have magically transformed into either overcooked noodles or jello, neither of whichwas the best medium for sustaining a standing position.

_Thought you should know_

_I've tried my best to let go of you_

_But I don't want to_

_I just gotta say it all_

_Before I go_

_Just so you know_

Kurt's expression had turned from shocked to teetering on the verge of consciousness. While Blaine supposed that might be a good sign, he hardly wanted Kurt to pass out in the midst of this confessional serenade. But he still couldn't release the hand that he had in his own grasp, as if letting go of him right then would equate to its equivalent in the larger picture.

_This emptiness is killing me_

_And I'm wondering why I've waited so long_

His voice had quieted a bit, it was no longer passionate and filling the room with its emotion – rather, it was secretive and confined to the two of them.

_Looking back I realize_

_It was always there just never spoken_

_I'm waiting here…been waiting here_

He shifted his hand so that Kurt's laid in only one of his, and he grabbed the hand that hung limply by Kurt's side so they now faced each other, clasping both hands together.

_Just so you know_

_This feeling's taken control of me_

_And I can't help it_

_I won't sit around_

_I can't let him win now_

To Blaine's extreme surprise, he felt Kurt's hands tighten around his, shifting to entwine their fingers together. The action, such a small thing, filled Blaine with a strange mixture of hope and relief.

_Thought you should know_

_I've tried my best to let go of you_

_But I don't want to_

_I just gotta say it all before I go_

_Just so you know_

_Just so you know_

Blaine's voice faded off, and he had to bite his bottom lip harshly to keep himself from running away. He had done what he'd come to do, he'd confessed everything. Kurt hardly knew what he meant to Blaine, he was the only source of genuine joy and companionship in a life that was full of paranoia and jumping at shadows and the creak of floorboards.

He couldn't let it all walk down the hall with Jordan, at least not without trying one last time.

"All of that," Kurt started, voice shaking. "Everything you said was…true?"

Blaine was of the opinion that he couldn't chance opening his mouth for fear of verbal diarrhea, but he nodded his head, eyes wide.

Kurt's expression was rapidly becoming wildly conflicted, emotions playing behind his eyes at a million miles per hour. "Why…why didn't you say anything?" He asked hopelessly.

Blaine's expression softened as he heard the small measure of panic in Kurt's voice, and he tightened the grip on his hands, pulling him slightly closer in the process. "I couldn't," he told Kurt quietly, hardly believing that they were talking about this openly. "After what happened at McKinley…I couldn't, Kurt. You were so fragile…so broken. I know how that fe - I mean, it isn't hard to sympathize." The words were beginning to rapidly pour out, just as Blaine had been afraid they would. "I thought maybe I could help you fix yourself, set things to rights again, make you comfortable with the person you _are_…maybe then…"

"Is that why?" Kurt asked, voice tight. "Is that why you acted that way?" Blaine didn't answer directly, but the message relayed by his eyes was enough of an answer in itself.

Kurt shook his head disbelievingly. After telling himself that Blaine would never reciprocate his feelings, this was actually _happening_. He was standing right there, bearing his soul and Kurt was still too cowardly to do it himself. He still felt selfishly confused, even more so than he had ten minutes ago. "But it's…why _now?_ Now, when I was just…" Moving on? That was certainly not right.

"You can't just walk away," Blaine said quickly, almost desperately. "I…couldn't let you go without saying…something." He let go of Kurt's hands abruptly and took a few steps backward. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You can go now if you want…I just had to say something." He looked down at the ground, expecting to hear footsteps leading away and the creak of a door. Shock coursed through him when the tips of Kurt's dress shoes entered his field of vision.

"I didn't think this would ever happen," Kurt whispered, causing Blaine to tilt his head up and catch his eye. He shook his head wonderingly. "I mean, I thought…somewhere far away in a dream it might, but not for real. Why didn't you say anything at all?" Kurt realized that Blaine could be asking the exact same question of him, but as the one who'd been serenaded, he felt the need to at least ask.

Blaine was silent for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "I just want you to always think the best of me, Kurt. Something horrible happened to you in McKinley, what Karofsky did to you isn't something that just vanishes overnight, into nothing. It's something that takes time to overcome. You have to realize that not everything has to be like that; being with someone when _you_ want to will be different. I didn't want you to associate me with anything that happened back there."

"But I do," Kurt responded, biting down on his bottom lip as he realized exactly how horribly cheesy his thoughts were rapidly becoming. "I do. You're everything that helped me get out of there; everything that scraped me off the floor and set me on my feet. I could never disassociate you from what happened at McKinley, but that isn't a bad thing, I don't think."

There was silence for a moment as the two teens simply looked at each other from where they stood, no more than a foot apart. Slowly, Kurt reached out to grasp Blaine's hand once again. "And why…did you never k –"

"Kurt," interrupted Blaine quickly, shaking his head. "I…might have wanted to, but like I already said: you need time to recover from what happened with Karofsky."

"Needed." Kurt's voice was quiet, softer than a whisper.

"What?"

"Needed," he repeated, hardly louder. He was sure that Blaine had heard his words the first time, as the room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. "Needed. Needed time." He looked up at Blaine's face from where his eyes had been fixed on the hand grasped in his.

Blaine's expressive eyes were wide, and his lips parted slightly as he stared at Kurt, who was observing him with the same intensity. Gently, Kurt lifted his unclaimed hand and traced his fingers lightly along Blaine's cheek. He heard the other boy's breath hitch at the contact, but he didn't break it. His fingertips traced over his cheekbone and down the curve of his jaw.

Breath coming more difficultly, Kurt dropped his hand entirely and moved his own to the other side of Blaine's face, where it settled, light as a feather. They had somehow gotten even closer, though Kurt couldn't remember moving. He leaned forward only a small amount, until his forehead was pressed against Blaine's and their noses brushed off one another.

"Kurt," said Blaine in a strangled whisper. "You don't…you don't have to…I mean, if you don't…you…" He appeared to be having difficultly stringing words together, which in Kurt's opinion could only be a good thing.

"Shh," Kurt responded. Several things then happened at the same time: his left hand moved downward from Blaine's face and bunched up in the front of his shirt; Kurt's head tilted left, his eyes slid closed, and his lips parted softly; finally, the hand that had grabbed the shirt tugged forward slightly, enough so that Kurt's lips gently met Blaine's.

In that one action, Blaine's reservations seemed to completely fly out the window, which Kurt was immensely glad for. The lead Warbler's head tilted back receptively, and he breathlessly reached forward and placed a hand on Kurt's waist, drawing them closer together. Every cell in his body was buzzing and a white cloud of euphoria was filling his head. He was half convinced that at any moment he would hear the scream of his alarm clock and he'd be shocked back into reality. Nothing, _nothing_ could have prepared him for this: the sense of rightness that filled his being, the urge to never come up for air again.

Kurt, on the other hand, was sure that he was doing this all wrong. How were you supposed to _breathe_ properly when your mouth was so otherwise preoccupied? Then there was the buzzing part of his mind that said breathing was hardly important at a time like this. He was kissing Blaine Anderson, actually _kissing_ him. He'd watched enough happy endings in movies and shows to know that a moment like this was supposed to be magical – and it was. It was like nothing he'd ever dreamed of before, and after Karofsky, nothing he'd ever hoped to have.

His lips were moving of their own accord, unhindered by his brain, which Kurt thought could only be a good thing, since his brain would probably just serve to mess everything up. He felt like an electric current was racing through him, and his skin tingled where Blaine's hand rested, even though the multiple layers of his Dalton uniform. He could feel Blaine's lips moving under his, molding to their shape like two halves of a whole. Kurt drew back slightly, breathing heavily.

They were still close together, close enough so that he could feel the warmth of the other's breath. His hands remained where they had been – one bunched in the front of his shirt while the other was cradling the side of his face. He opened his eyes slowly to see that Blaine's remained closed, his lips still partly open.

He remained transfixed, chest moving up and down heavily, until Blaine's eyes finally opened and they flicked towards Kurt's. His eyes remained wide, and he bit down contemplatively on his bottom lip. Slowly, a smile began to spread across his face, one that sent butterflies through the depths of Kurt's stomach.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered wonderingly with a small sigh and a shake of the head, that euphoric smile in place the entire time. He looked as in shock as Kurt felt, which the latter found amazing.

A horrible and entirely unwelcome sensation was currently entering Kurt's conscience: guilt. In his wildest fantasies, when something like this happened, guilt had never been a factor. They had always been skipping off into flowery fields holding hands as the sun cast neon colors into the sky and the summer breeze ruffled their clothes. Never had he felt _guilty_.

But he did now. The thought of Jordan waiting unknowingly out by the car visualized in his mind, and confliction cropped up along with it. He knew what this meant – that Blaine _had_ actually wanted him in the same way that he'd wanted Blaine. It should be that easy…shouldn't it? But it wasn't. Kurt hated himself for having doubts _now_, of all horrible times to have doubts.

"I…I," he stammered.

"I know," Blaine returned softly, voice still laced with that wondering tone. He raised a hand and brushed it along Kurt's, which had still been on the side of his face. He leaned briefly into it, eyes sliding shut for a moment before opening again brightly. "Kurt, I…don't even know what to say. I mean, you're –"

"I have to go," Kurt said quickly, slipping his hand out from under Blaine's and taking several hasty steps backward.

"Kurt!" Blaine's tone was alarmed, eyes wide in near panic. "I'm…I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

"No…I mean – yes, yes I'm fine, I just –" He shook his head quickly, feeling the onslaught of emotions that would mean a burst of tears.

"Kurt," repeated Blaine, sounding clearly distressed. He touched on a hand to Kurt's retreating shoulder, causing the other to spin around. The over bright sheen in the countertenor's eyes made his heart ache with regret. "I knew I shouldn't have…I mean, I shouldn't have done anything, I should have waited. I went too fast, I'm sorry. I would never hurt you on purpose, you know that."

Blaine's pleas, if anything, only made Kurt's feelings of guilt increase. Now he thought that Kurt's reaction was _his_ fault. Trying to keep his hand from shaking, he moved Blaine's hand off of his shoulder. "N-no. Blaine, _I'm_ sorry. You don't know how many times I've thought about that and now…I'm sorry, Blaine. I'm sorry…I have to go." His voice broke over the last syllable, and Kurt clasped his hand over his mouth as he turned and raced from the room and out of the building.

Blaine had been shocked into stillness for a moment, but the next instant saw him running after Kurt across the courtyard. "Kurt!" He called after the retreating figure. No, no, no – this could not be happening, Blaine thought to himself. What had he done? Had he moved too fast? Kurt had been the one to initiate it though; Blaine had_asked_ him if he was going to be okay.

He stopped at the beginning of the parking lot, biting his lip as he saw Kurt make a beeline to his car. In the next instant, he saw another figure, this one heading directly toward Kurt. "_Fuck_," Blaine cussed passionately, as he watched Jordan Aaron approach.

All Kurt needed in the moment was to escape. He needed some place he could breathe and reflect on what happened. He hastened toward his car, blurry vision causing him to fumble with the keys.

"Hey!" A voice called out, just as Kurt had just reached the vehicle. He looked up through teary eyes to see Jordan running toward him. _Perfect. _"Kurt…" Jordan observed Kurt's tear-streaked face with shock, finally settling on his lips, still slightly swollen from kissing. Immediately, a defensive force filled his entire being.

"What happened?" He asked harshly, reaching Kurt's side. "_Kurt._" He frowned as the other boy flinched under his touch. "What did he do? What did he do to you, Kurt?" Jordan's face was set and serious, eyes flaring with anger.

"N-nothing," Kurt fumbled as he tried to unlock the driver's side door. "Nothing happened, I just…I can't. I'm g-going home, I'm sorry." Kurt slid into the driver's seat and turned the engine on with shaky fingers, quickly backing out without buckling his seat belt.

Jordan wanted to run alongside the car, do _something_ to keep him from leaving, just like that. But there was nothing he could do, Kurt was gone too quickly. Instead, he turned to survey the grounds, only to see Blaine Anderson watching Kurt's retreating car with wide, too-innocent doe eyes.

"Anderson!" He called loudly, stalking over to the other boy. "What did you _do?_"

Blaine looked at him in shock for a moment before frowning deeply. "Pretending to _care?"_ He shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, good thing it isn't any of your business."

"Don't _try_ to pull this, Anderson," Jordan snarled, grabbing the boy's blazer lapels and shoving him back harshly against the brick entrance to the courtyard. "I know you did something to Kurt, he was _crying_."

"You can stop the act," Blaine hissed, shoving the other teen away from him. "God, you make me _sick_. Pretending like you know him, like _you_ know what's best for him when you've known each other for what? Two weeks? You don't know the first thing _about_ him."

"More than you know, _obviously_." Jordan kept his glare in place, though he didn't advance again yet. "Which leads me back to the question: what the _fuck_ did you do and exactly how hard do I have to kick the shit out of you?"

"_Fuck off, Aaron_," Blaine growled, animosity growing by the moment. "You don't know the first thing about _shit –_"

His words were cut off abruptly by the sound of a siren shrieking as it passed the school. Blaine and Jordan looked in unison toward the vehicle as it passed and exchanged a brief, wordless glance. Jordan began to immediately run toward the exit of the parking lot but Blaine quickly grabbed the keys to his own car and started the engine.

Jordan had just reached the meeting of the parking lot and street when Blaine pulled up beside him. "Get in, Aaron," he called threateningly out of the open window. "And don't say I never did anything for you."

"Shut the fuck up and drive, Anderson," Jordan said darkly, getting in and slamming the door behind him. Blaine turned right out of the parking lot and raced after the howling ambulance as quickly as safety would allow.

* * *

_Chances - Five for Fighting_

_Just So You Know - Jesse McCartney_


	10. Chapter 10 :: Hide Your Love Away

_A/N: Another filler chapter I'm afraid, though not as fluffy as the last one ;) But of course, there were loose ends to be tied up, and repercussions for all the shenanigans from last chapter. Also, I must apologize for what are (I am sure) the numerous errors in ambulance and/or hospital protocol. My knowledge on the two come solely from Grey's Anatomy I'm afraid - which means that should any make-out scenes in on-call rooms make their way into the future of this fic, we're good to go :)_

_Nevertheless, please enjoy! And as always, thanks for reading!_

* * *

TEN:

Kurt pulled out of the Dalton parking lot with tears still coursing down his cheeks. As he pulled his car onto the main street beyond the school drive, his heart was swelling with a million emotions. He had wanted Blaine for what seemed like forever; he'd always been more than just a best friend, he was a mentor, someone who could genuinely understand Kurt, someone he could seek comfort from, someone who always said the right things at the right time, someone who _knew_ him. It shouldn't have been a problem, then. Blaine was everything that Jordan wasn't.

But he had thought it was all over. Kurt had genuinely begun to think that he could start to get over Blaine and move on…and Jordan had seemed to be someone who could give him that opportunity. Kurt had counted his chickens, in a metaphorical sense. How could everything change so abruptly in such a short time? He felt like he was making this harder than it should be, conveniently ignoring the truth: that the more he thought about it, the more he didn't want to hurt Jordan. He didn't want to see those bright eyes lit in anything but happiness; he didn't want to see the corner of his lips dip down at the edges, disappointed in _him._

The countertenor sniffed heartily, taking one hand off the wheel to wipe the wetness away from beneath his eyes. His vision was blurred, the traffic lights whirling into a psychedelic swirl of color before him. Kurt opened the center console and rummaged around for the box of tissues that he knew were in there. "Oh for goodness sake," he whined waveringly, glancing down into the console to see if he could see them.

It was at that moment that Kurt heard the screech of a car horn. His head whipped up viciously, and through his tear-stained vision, he just had time to see the car in front of him slide in a complete circle on the sleety ground. By the time his foot stamped down on the brake pedal, it was too late. His body whipped forward upon impact, the seatbelt that he had forgotten to buckle hanging uselessly as Kurt shot forward through the windshield.

* * *

"If you didn't drive like a goddamn grandma, Anderson –"

"Just. Shut. _Up._" They were not even five hundred feet down the road that led away from the Dalton parking lot, still approaching the main street. "Just don't talk, don't open your _mouth._" Blaine was not usually one to lose his temper, but something in Jordan brought it out of him. "We could be the next ones in an ambulance if I'm not careful."

Jordan didn't speak again, but his arms were crossed against his chest and he glared intently straight ahead. As soon as Blaine pulled off of the small road and onto the main street, they were assaulted by bright lights and loud noises. "Oh shit…that looks like…is that…"

"Kurt's car," Blaine finished, heart racing as he hastily pulled into a parallel parking spot not thirty feet away from the mass of cars. "Or what's left of it." He raced to turn the engine off, fingers trembling, and jumped out of his car a few steps behind Jordan, locking it automatically with the button on his keys.

As they ran forward to the scene of the accident, Blaine's face fell in utter horror. There were three cars smashed together in an inextricable knot, one of them undoubtedly belonging to Kurt. Blaine turned his head to quickly survey the damage as they passed, face contorting in horror as he saw the gaping human-sized hole in the windshield. "Jordan," he murmured, not taking his gaze from it.

Jordan's eyes followed his gaze and his mouth fell open slightly. "Shit," he repeatedly cussed, voice shaking slightly. "Where is he?" There were several ambulances in the area, and everywhere was chaos. People were crowding around to see what had happened and policemen were holding them back.

The duo made for the gaggle of people that had gathered about twenty feet away from the twist of cars, figuring that they must be crowding around something. Sure enough, a closer look saw that just beyond the line of policemen were ambulance workers leaning over a body on the ground.

"Kurt!" Blaine called in a voice that cracked as he recognized the man on the ground. He shoved the people nearest him away, seeing only Kurt lying bloody and broken on the ground. "Move…please, _please_ move. I have to get over there."

"Move the fuck out of the way before _I_ move you," Jordan shouted at the vultures blocking their path, shocking them into clearing a path.

Blaine looked at Jordan for a moment, startled. "T-thanks…"

"Just go, Anderson," Jordan said with resignation, pushing his shoulder to get him moving.

Refocused on moving forward, Blaine went straight up the police line, staring at Kurt beyond them. "Stay back kid," one of the officers said condescendingly.

"No. That's Kurt, he's my…my friend." Blaine shook his head obstinately, curls shaking in the process. "You have to let us through, just for a second. I have to see how he is, I have to see. I can't stand here, not…We have to get through."

"We?" Asked the officer dryly, sighing tiredly when he saw Jordan beyond Blaine. In a moment, his eyes flicked over Blaine and Jordan's matching uniforms, and then down to Kurt's Dalton jacket, which had been cast to his side, apparently cut off by the paramedics who were leaning over him. "Fine – but no one else."

Without a word of thanks, Blaine pushed through, dropping to his knees at his friend's side, opposite the paramedics. "Oh my God," Blaine said, wanting to reach out and touch Kurt's face to see if it was still warm, if he was still alive. He felt Jordan kneel carefully beside him. Blaine looked up at the paramedics, who had now rolled a gurney up to the side. "Is he…oh God, I mean…he isn't –"

"He's critical," said one paramedic rapidly. "We need to get him to the ER, stat." They lowered the level of the gurney, bringing Kurt onto it before raising it again.

Blaine had risen when they did, eyes never leaving Kurt. "I need to go with him," Blaine said quickly. "I need to –" He paused when he saw Kurt's eyelashes flutter.

"B…Bl…" Kurt stuttered out in a whisper, not able to put the whole word together.

"I'm here," he called uselessly from the ground as the ambulance crew lifted Kurt into the car.

"One family member only, the other will have to go."

"I'll come," Jordan spoke up for the first time since yelling at the crowd.

Blaine turned to him furiously, circumstances making him overly emotional. "Like hell," he hissed, eyes narrowed.

"Your car," Jordan said rationally. "Or didn't you notice the green zone? Next time find an overnight spot, Anderson."

Blaine gaped in horror as Jordan grabbed the arm of the paramedic and was hoisted into the back of the ambulance. Just like that, they were speeding off and Blaine was left standing there alone. Furiously, he turned back toward his car to drive to the hospital himself.

* * *

"What do you _mean_ I can't go back to see him?" Blaine asked the nurse at the desk, with as much patience as he could muster.

"He was just stabilized not long ago, the doctors will tell you when you are allowed to go back to see him. In the meanwhile, is there any other family of his that you should call?"

"Other? Wha –" Blaine sighed and rubbed at his temples. "Yeah," he answered instead, pulling his iPhone out of his pocket. "Just…let me know. I'll be here." He walked back over to the chair where he'd been waiting before as he dialed Kurt's home number.

"_Hello?"_ It was Finn.

"Finn, its Blaine. Is…is Kurt's dad there?"

"_Uh, yeah I'll go get him. Are you okay? You sound totally freaked."_

"Yeah…I mean no, no. I just need to talk to Kurt's dad."

"_Sure, sure, calm down. Here he is."_ Blaine heard the phone pass hands before Burt's voice came on the other line. _"Hello?"_

"Mr. Hummel, its Blaine."

"_Blaine."_ Burt paused before clearing his throat. _"Uh, Kurt's not home. He had something to do after school."_

"I know, I know." Blaine paused, stumbling over the words.

"_You do?"_ Burt's tone was surprised. _"Then why the call? You're okay?"_

"…No." Blaine felt a bubble rise in his throat, blocking his words.

Obviously Burt heard the change in his voice, because he shifted immediately into worry-mode. _"Blaine, what's wrong? Are you okay? Did something happen?"_

"It's Kurt," Blaine said, voice breaking again. "Mr. Hummel, something…happened. There was an accident and I don't know how he is, they won't tell me anything. They won't let me back there and I don't know what's going on but it looked so horrible."

"_Where are you?"_

"The Emergency Unit in the Westerville hospital."

"_Stay there. I'm coming right now."_ The line clicked and went dead. Slowly, Blaine pocketed the phone once again and sat down to wait.

* * *

Jordan sat in a chair in the corner of Kurt's recovery room. The doctors had told him to wait there until they brought Kurt in when he was stable. They'd finally done so not ten minutes ago, saying that he would wake anytime in the next few hours.

Vaguely Jordan wondered what had happened to Blaine. Had he followed them here? Possibly, but it was strange that he hadn't come back yet. Not that Jordan particularly lamented over his absence, but if he had been in his shoes, he certainly would have wanted to see Kurt as quickly as possible.

Resolving not to think about Blaine any longer, Jordan turned to observe Kurt once more, so still on the stark white hospital bed. He could see the bandages that wrapped around his chest over what the doctors had said was torn up flesh and several broken ribs, one of which had punctured a lung upon his impact with the ground. His left leg was done up in a cast from the knee down, from a fracture that had pierced the skin of his calf, and a bandage was wrapped around his right wrist. Miraculously, his face remained uninjured. It remained a blank, unmarred, pale canvas against the pillow.

Carefully, so that he wouldn't wake the sleeping figure before he woke up on his own, Jordan inched his chair forward so it was right next to Kurt's bedframe. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched the pale bandaged hand that rested against the sheets, the one devoid of needles and tubes, and took it into his own. Quietly, voice no more than a whisper, he began to sing, a soft serenade that he hadn't intended for anyone to hear.

_Here I stand head in hand_

_Turn my face to the wall_

_If he's gone I can't go on_

_Feeling two-foot small_

Kurt's eyelids fluttered but Jordan didn't notice. His hand was still on Kurt's, and his other one moved slowly to trace the line of the brace that encircled Kurt's neck.

_Everywhere people stare_

_Each and every day_

_I can see them laugh at me_

_And I hear them say_

_Hey, you've got to hide your love away_

_Hey, you've got to hide your love away_

His wandering hand had moved down to the purpling bruises that were rising over the bandages on Kurt's chest. He didn't notice that Kurt's eyes had opened a fraction, and that the countertenor was currently observing his every action.

_How can I even try?_

_I can never win_

_Hearing them, seeing them_

_In the state I'm in –_

"You really think so?" Kurt asked weakly, making Jordan jump and quickly move both of his hands back to himself.

"Um…uh, no," he said, clearing his throat. "It's just a song." Raising an eyebrow skeptically, Kurt tried to lift himself into a sitting position, crying out involuntarily in pain as he did so. "Careful, careful – don't move. The doctors said you're pretty bad off."

"What happened?" Kurt asked, using the hand Jordan had been holding to rub his eyes, wincing only slightly when he found that it too was injured. "Why are you here?"

"You crashed," Jordan answered, momentarily ignoring his second question. "I'm…not exactly sure how it happened. We heard sirens, and by the time we got there they were already loading you into the ambulance. They just let me come with you at the last second."

"We?"

"Yeah, me and Blaine…you don't remember?"

"Blaine was there?" Kurt demanded, leaning forward slightly. "Did I…did I say anything?"

"N-no," Jordan answered, deciding that "Bl…" wasn't _really_ saying anything.

Kurt sighed and leaned back again, closing his eyes. "I'm so tired."

"You should rest," Jordan said quietly. "I'll be here."

"But my dad," Kurt worried. "He's probably…" No he wasn't, Kurt realized. He'd said that he wouldn't get home until later that night.

"I'll ask someone to call him," Jordan said reassuringly. "You shouldn't worry about it now. Just rest." For once, Kurt didn't put up an argument. He simply did as he was told.

When the doctor came in about twenty minutes later to ask if Kurt had said anything yet, Jordan mentioned Kurt's dad, to which the man replied that things were 'taken care of'. Jordan was sure he had no idea what that meant, or where they'd have gotten the information to 'take care' of anything. Perhaps they'd found it from Kurt's phone, which was currently sitting in a little cubby along with the rest of the possessions that they'd stripped him of in the ambulance. In the end, Jordan didn't find any cause to pursue the matter further.

* * *

Blaine shot off of the waiting room chair like a rocket when he saw Burt Hummel walk through the hospital doors, quickly sticking to the man's side like a burr. "Anything?"

"They won't tell me _anything_," Blaine complained. "I'm not family, that's what they keep saying."

"Come with me." He walked up the woman at the counter, who sat popping her gum and reading a tabloid magazine. "We're going back to see Kurt Hummel." He did not phrase it as a question.

The woman stared at him a moment before speaking. "I'm going to need identification."

"Burt Hummel," he said, picking out his driver's license as proof. "I'm his _father_, and I'm going back to see him."

"This way, Mr. Hummel." She led them to the double doors behind which various rooms lay, shaking her head as Blaine made to go past behind Burt. "Family only; it isn't visiting hours, kid."

Blaine's face sank to look at the ground, but he looked up when he felt Burt's hand on his shoulder. "The 'kid' is coming," he said with finality. Burt gave him a nod and a half-smile, not letting go of his shoulder until the woman resumed the lead once again, looking considerably more disgruntled than she had when they started, which was saying a _lot._

She led the way to the door, and Burt didn't hesitate to open it. He froze in the doorway. Blaine craned his neck to look around Kurt's father, jaw dropping when he saw who sat dozing in the chair at Kurt's side.

"Who are you?" "What are _you_ doing here?" Burt and Blaine spoke at the same time, startling Jordan into wakefulness. The older man turned to Blaine. "You know this guy?"

"Yeah…" Blaine said unhelpfully, glaring at Jordan.

He could see the cogs turning in Burt's head for a fraction of a minute, but soon his head tilted back in understanding and he turned to look at Jordan once again.

"J-Jordan Aaron," the other Warbler stuttered out, earning another frown from Blaine. He offered a hand which Burt took shortly before letting go.

"Have you been here the entire time, Aaron?" Blaine asked incredulously.

"Since they brought him back…" Jordan's was phrasing his words carefully, seemingly nervous around Burt. "From wherever they bandaged him up and stuff."

"I can't believe this," Blaine muttered, shaking his head.

"Blaine," Burt said, looking at him. "Why'd they let this guy in here and not you?"

"He came on the ambulance," he answered, still muttering. Burt's eyebrows rose up his forehead, lips pressing into a line.

"I think you should probably leave," he told Jordan, no emotion betrayed on his face.

"Oh…I…uh…I mean, yes sir." He hastily extracted himself from the seat and stumbled to the door. He paused as if he wanted to say something, but thought better of it and left without another word.

"So," Burt said contemplatively, sitting in the newly vacated seat and drawing up another empty chair for Blaine, from where it had sat against the wall. "Was that the kid Kurt was supposed to go…out with tonight?"

"Mhmm." Blaine had sat down in the offered seat and now stared intently at his interlaced hands.

"You don't seem too happy about it." Burt paused. "What, you don't like him? Or is it…something else?"

Blaine squirmed for a moment, looking immensely uncomfortable. He wondered if Kurt had to endure talks like these all the time. "Both I suppose, Mr. Hummel."

The elder nodded his head, looking at Kurt on the hospital bed. For the first time since they'd walked in, Blaine saw the stretched skin across Burt's temples, tight with worry. He saw how the older man gnawed lightly on his bottom lip, and how his eyes flicked rapidly back and forth over his son's sleeping body.

"He'll be alright, Mr. Hummel," Blaine said, nodding his head as if the extra action would increase the certainty behind his sentiment.

"I know, I know." The reply came quickly. "But Kurt is, ah…all I really have left, you know. I mean I have Carole now and Finn as well. But Kurt…for the longest time we only had each other. When I was in the hospital at the end of last year…well, now I know how he must have felt."

Blaine didn't say anything. He hadn't known that Burt had needed to go to the hospital this school year. One of the many things he still didn't know about Kurt's life, and _he_ had been the one lecturing Jordan on not knowing him. He was just as bad.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Hummel."

"For what?" Burt asked, eyes not leaving Kurt. "You didn't do this."

"I'm not so sure. He was…upset with me, I guess. I didn't want him going anywhere with Jordan –" Blaine wasn't going to mention anything else, but Burt cut him off.

"Because?" He looked at Blaine expectantly. When the younger man didn't say anything, Burt sighed and shook his head. "Listen, I don't know much about…love or anything. I've always gotten lucky. And I don't know anything about your situation, or what it's like to have feelings for another guy, but if you like someone – and it doesn't matter who, a person is a person – you can't wait around until it's too late to do something about it."

"Are you following me?" Blaine nodded with wide eyes when Burt paused for his answer. "You have to do what makes you happy. You have one life to live, kid – just one. You can never get back the time that's past, you can't correct a mistake that's already been made, and once something is lost for good, you can't get it back. All you can do is take life and run with it, not afraid. It's not enough to put your cards on the table. You have to play them if you want to win anything."

Blaine contemplated Burt's words for a moment, nodding as they sunk in. Kurt's father was no idiot, that fact was more obvious than ever. After another moment, he stood. "I should probably leave you two alone now."

"Actually," Burt said casually, also standing. "I was about to go get some coffee. I might grab a scone or something too; it should take, oh," he glanced at his watch, "fifteen or twenty minutes." He gave Blaine a meaningful look before leaving.

Blaine stood before the bed, completely flabbergasted. It floored him that someone could have a father that was so…perfect. Burt was like some alien species that walked around spouting words of kindness and understanding. It was something he envied, more than Kurt knew. In the past ten minutes, he and Burt had talked more about love and meaning and confidence than he had with his real father in his entire _life_.

Subconsciously, Blaine rubbed at his wrists. He wondered what Burt would think if he knew. He was almost tempted to run and tell him now, just to get it off of his chest. But reality stayed Blaine's tongue. Knowing that Burt would be back in about fifteen minutes, Blaine resolved to be gone when the man returned, as Burt had no doubt intended.

He pulled the chair closer to Kurt's bedside, taking time to inspect his friend. Seeing the bruises that blossomed over his pale chest, Blaine stood with eyes wide. Delicately, he sat down on the edge of the bed. Blaine unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and rolled it up until his own bruises were showing, though they were fading into yellowness, at least for now. He held his arm up to Kurt's chest, looking at them both side by side.

A strange emotion was making its way through his chest, creating a deep constricting feeling. Hastily, Blaine pushed his sleeve back down, instead lowering his hand to trace the purple edges on Kurt's chest lightly. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry that I can't protect you…always."

He drew his hand back and simply looked at Kurt's still face for a while, the steady beep of the heart monitor a reassuring noise in the background. After a moment, his hand had gone back to Kurt again, this time rising to stroke back his hair, disheveled in such a contrary way to its usual order. He hated and yet was in awe of how he couldn't seem to keep his hands to himself for any substantial amount of time. Nothing had ever controlled him so completely.

Blaine just sat quietly, hand softly running through Kurt's hair from his temple to the base of his head over and over again. It was just as soft as he'd imagined, all those times he'd thought about doing just this – though in those fantasies Kurt had been awake. Thinking that it must have been almost ten minutes since Burt had gone, Blaine sighed and returned his hand to himself, thinking that he'd better get going in case he decided to come back a bit early.

"Don't stop," a quiet voice came from the bed.

Blaine looked around to see Kurt's eyes open, though not all the way. "Kurt! You…you're…"

"It felt good." Kurt's face contorted as he shifted, making panic rise in Blaine rapidly. "Blaine, you're…you're sitting on my blanket. I can't move."

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, I'm –" he jumped up hurriedly. He linked his hands in front of him, then crossed his arms…then shoved them in his pockets all in a matter of seconds, none of the positions feeling as natural as when they'd been running through Kurt's hair. "If you hadn't…I mean, if something had happened to you, Kurt."

"It didn't."

"But it could have. It so easily could have. People break _so_ easily, Kurt. We're fragile. That's why we need armor, and munitions, and shelter. I…well…I don't think I would have been able to live if something had happened to you."

Kurt was silent for a moment, looking at Blaine. Finally he broke eye contact and sighed. "Blaine…"

"You don't have to say anything, Kurt. I mean about what happened. I – I won't tell anyone." He took a great breath, Burt's words echoing in his mind. "Someone said something really great to me today…and I plan on listening to him. I know why you left: you were confused, you still are. I get that, believe me." He looked Kurt directly in his eyes. "But now you know…well, everything really. My cards are on the table, Kurt."

Kurt was still shocked into immobility when Blaine stepped closer, and his mouth slackened slightly when the other Warbler bent down and pressed his lips to his cheek, lingering there for a moment longer than would have been natural. Blaine straightened with eyes full of care. "I hope I have a good hand, because I intend on playing them. I have to." He turned and walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. "Promise me you'll get better, Kurt."

"I…I promise." Blaine's mouth tilted up at the corner at Kurt's reply, and he left without saying another word. Kurt remained staring at the place he'd last seen Blaine for long time, even after the other teen was long gone.

* * *

_You've Got to Hide Your Love Away - The Beatles_


	11. Chapter 11 :: Moonshadow

_A/N: This chapter was strangely difficult to write, but I hope it doesn't disappoint. At one point there had been a Brotherly!Furt + Carole scene that got cut to a Brotherly!Furt scene, then taken out completely as it seemed to be baggage more than anything. But the trade off was this little insight into Jordan's household, which I was looking forward to and I hope provides some insight into his character. I suppose I should also mention that when I began writing I fully did not intend for there to be so many gosh-darn Beatles songs in this fic. They just have a perfect song for almost every occasion, and arguing with a muse is a completely futile practice._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

ELEVEN:

By the end of the week that began with that insane Monday Valentine's Day, Blaine had not heard any further news from Kurt. He had called him twice and texted him several times throughout the week with no reply. Blaine figured that in his condition, Kurt could hardly be expected to return phone calls, but that didn't prevent him from worrying. It was for the sake of not appearing overbearing that he refrained from actually going to the hospital to see for himself. If something had gone wrong, Burt would have alerted him. He was sure of this.

When he woke up Sunday morning, Blaine saw _(Messages: 1)_ on his phone.

_Sorry about the late reply – they didn't give me my things until they discharged me._

_Something about the dangers of overexcitement in my oh-so-fragile state._

_Got home last night though. See you Monday?_

_-K_

Upon receiving that message, Blaine relaxed considerably. Kurt was alright, he was home. Even better, he would be at school the next day so Blaine could actually see him. He hadn't hoped for as much. What Kurt didn't know, however, was that Blaine had already been putting plans in motion for the day Kurt returned.

_Absolutely. I have to see that you're alright with my own two eyes, after all._

_-B_

* * *

"…_All alone!_ Whether you like it or not, alone is something you'll be quite a lot. And when you're alone, there's a very good chance you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. There are some, down the road between hither and yon, that can scare you so much you won't want to go on."

The voice from within the recesses of fluffy bed sheets cleared her throat with a small squeaking noise. The teenage boy paused in his reading and glanced up at her, but she merely blinked at him with her large sapphire eyes.

The boy lowered his matching eyes to the book once more and continued to read. "But on you will go though the weather be foul. On you will go though your enemies prowl. On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl. Onward up many a frightening creek, though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak."

"But I don't like sneakers," the small girl complained. "I want to wear high heels, just like a grown-up lady like Mommy! Or a model!"

The teen sighed indulgently. This was a common occurrence – in fact, a nightly one. His sister insisted that she couldn't go to sleep without being read a Dr. Suess book. "Elsa," he whispered. "Hush, it's almost over." She burrowed down into her blankets and he continued. "On and on you will hike. And I know you'll hike far and face up to your problems whatever they are."

"Jordie," Elsa spoke again, whispering this time. "Do we have more problems than normal people?"

Jordan paused, wondering as he often did how best to explain things to a fragile five-year-old mind. "Everyone has problems, El. If you didn't…well, that would be a problem."

"But do we have more than most people?" She looked at him with her expressive round eyes and Jordan could hardly find his brave face. "Mommy said that we have too many problems. And when I asked her if that's why she goes away so much, she said that she didn't have time and left. Are…are we problems, Jordie?"

"Hey," Jordan said seriously, brushing some of Elsa's blonde, elfin hair away from her eyes. "I don't ever want to hear you say that again. You are _nobody's_ problem, El. In fact, you might just be the best thing to ever happen to me."

The small girl giggled, clapping her hands over her mouth. "_Reeeeaaalllly?_"

"Oh yeah," he said with assurance. "Who would I talk to if I didn't have you around, huh?"

"What about the boys at the school with the funny jackets?"

She didn't know any better, Jordan reminded himself. "I don't think so, Elsie. Can I just finish this, El? It's getting late and we both have school tomorrow." She nodded and Jordan looked back at the book. "You'll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You'll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure where you step. Step with care and great tact and remember that Life's a Great Balancing Act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And _never_ mix up your right foot from your left."

"Are you happy, Jordie?"

"Are you even _listening_?"

"I can think and listen at the same time," she responded sweetly, rubbing her tired eyes with a small fist. "And I know _all_ the words."

Jordan smiled largely, as if the more teeth he could expose would be more proof of his happiness. "Look how happy I am," he said, pointing to his smile. "If I was any happier, my face would fall off completely."

"But you don't _usually_ smile," she pursued. "Only when I smile first."

"That's because I have a lot to do, especially when mom and dad are gone."

"But they're here now, and you don't smile."

Jordan sighed and massaged his temples. The thing about five year olds was that they _never_ let anything go. "Maybe because it's only dad right now, and he's leaving tomorrow morning anyways."

"You're gonna take me to school, Jordie?"

"As usual," he affirmed. "Well, it looks like we're never going to finish this tonight, so let's just put a hold on it, alright?"

Elsa nodded, blonde locks bouncing. Jordan tucked the blankets around her like a burrito and kissed her forehead before plugging in her pink nightlight and flicking off the main light in her room. "Night, El."

He walked down the polished hardwood floor of the hallway, stopping outside his father's study. Hesitantly, he inched the door open, knocking on it as he did so.

"No," sounded his father's voice from inside the room. "Valerie, if I've said it once, I've said it a million times, I don't – what? You're breaking up, it must be the rain. I – Valerie, hold on a second. What?" The last question was directed toward Jordan, who was still standing hesitantly in the frame of the door.

"I tucked Elsa into bed," he said. "I just wanted to say goodbye if we don't get a chance to see you before you leave tomorrow."

"I'll be back in a week or so." And those were the only words his father directed toward Jordan before clicking back into the call on his Bluetooth. "I'm back. No, you can tell them to go to someone else if that's what they think. They'll be crawling back in no time…"

Jordan shut the door once more, shutting out the sounds of his father's business call. He was not surprised by what had happened. In fact, it was a common occurrence around the Aaron household when speaking to either Marcus or Geraldine.

Jordan's parents had been the ones who got him into theatre in the first place; he was constantly telling people that. However, it wasn't mere coincidence that the children's theatre club had run every day after school until six o'clock at night. He would never go as far as saying that his parents didn't love him and Elsa – he was sure they did. They just loved their jobs far more. But in Jordan's reckoning, that was a good thing. That way he got the be the one to take care of his little sister, a job he wouldn't give up for the world.

At home, Jordan was forced into loftiness. That and his overwhelming sense of self-confidence were carefully crafted defense mechanisms. After all, if your parents didn't put confidence in you, who was left?

Once in his room, Jordan glanced at his phone again. He had a missed call from Kurt that was made earlier, and he'd been periodically returning to look at it over the course of the day, needing continuous proof that it was real. He'd tried to suck up the nerve to call him back but in the end he couldn't muster it. He communicated much more affectively in person; it was the benefit of being a stage actor.

He was just about to put his phone away when it buzzed, the signal for an incoming new message. Jordan was surprised when he saw who it was from.

_We're going to do it at practice tomorrow._

_He'll be there._

_You good with your part?_

_-B_

As much as Jordan loathed the thought of working with Anderson toward a common goal, they'd had an idea they needed to pursue and Jordan couldn't deny that the boy was talented. They'd exchanged numbers to choreograph the idea, and a couple of the other boys had even stayed after regular Warbler practice to hone their presentation.

It seemed that the one time the two boys were fine with working with the other was when the ultimate goal was a good will gesture for Kurt. The countertenor had been out of school for almost a week, and was still in bad shape, everyone knew that. Jordan couldn't help but feel like he'd played at least a small part in the accident, and though he still didn't know what had happened to make Kurt so upset, he was sure Blaine felt the same. They'd both needed this, as an apology if nothing else.

Ultimately they'd gone with Blaine's choice in song, but even Jordan had to agree that it was a perfect song to sing for Kurt as a welcome back.

_Count on it._

_-J_

He set his phone on his nightstand again before sliding into bed and turning to look out of his second story window at the storm that had suddenly picked up outside. He'd thought about Kurt a lot over the week – too much. He'd never felt the need to pursue _anyone_ before, which was what he was undoubtedly going to all this trouble for. Others had always pursued him first. Jordan was attracted to talent, he knew that. He also thirsted for a challenge, which in winning he could prove that he himself was worth something.

When he'd heard those sirens, the situation got launched quickly into reality. The way his heart had seemed to leap from his chest, the way his feet had begun to carry him away across the pavement without a second thought for more reasonable transportation, contrary to Blaine. He'd just wanted action. It was a foreign feeling to Jordan, to be protective of someone in that way. The young talent was finding that he rather enjoyed it.

A yellow burst of light shot in through Jordan's open curtains, throwing his room into electric relief, highlighting everything inside as if by the light of day. A few seconds later, a coursing rumble sounded, intense enough to make a picture on the wall shake. By the time it had ended a few seconds later, Jordan had already tiredly thrown open the side of his covers facing the door.

Sure enough, not a moment later his door squeaked open. Elsa's small silhouette was framed there for a minute before she scuttled in the rest of the way. "Jordie," she whispered. "The thunder man shook my room. I – I think he was trying to break in."

"It's just a thunderstorm, Elsie," Jordan said soothingly. "Are you scared?"

She lifted her small, five-year-old chin defiantly. "No," she said securely. "I just –" At that moment lightning lit the room again and Elsa had fled to the safety of her brother's bed in record time.

"Sure you aren't," Jordan said with a chuckle. "Just for tonight, 'kay?"

"M'kay." She paused for a moment in speech, though Jordan could feel her wiggling around to get comfortable. "Hey Jordie? Could you sing me a lullaby?"

Jordan sat up in the bed, surprised at her request. He'd sung to her when she was a baby, and he sometimes practiced his songs with her in place of the audience, but she didn't usually ask for lullabies. "Er…sure, El. Just close your eyes, alright? Pretend that the storm has gone away, pretend that it's summer and there are lightning bugs outside, like we had in Carolina. Do you remember that, El?"

"Mhmm."

"Maybe there's some in a jar on that shelf, over there. You wouldn't need a nightlight, then." Slowly, Jordan transitioned into the first song which came into his mind.

_Now it's time to say goodnight_

_Goodnight, sleep tight_

_Now the sun turns out his light_

_Goodnight, sleep tight_

_Dreams, sweet dreams for me_

_Dreams, sweet dreams for you_

Jordan heard his sister's breathing begin to even out into the low, even breaths of sleep.

_Close your eyes and I'll close mine_

_Goodnight, sleep tight_

_Now the moon begins to shine_

_Goodnight, sleep tight_

_Dreams, sweet dreams for me_

_Dreams, sweet dreams for you_

He paused in his quiet singing to peer over at Elsa, who was now sleeping soundly. Jordan chuckled, shaking his head before he settled back among his own pillows to fall asleep himself.

* * *

Kurt hobbled off of the bus to Dalton – a dreadful and common, but necessary mode of transportation to the chic, high-class school – fumbling to use both crutches without hurting his sprained wrist while also positioning his messenger bag in a way that didn't put stress on his braced neck. On second thought, Kurt sincerely wished that he had asked for a wheelchair. Perhaps a temporary assistant as well, who could carry his things and wheel him around – he'd done the wheelchair scenario in McKinley once before, and had needed to double the rigorous maintenance of his delicate hands for a month afterward.

At least he'd had the chance to add some desperately needed decorations to his bland cast yesterday. He was _not_ having people sign it in the tacky styling of fifth grade. No, Kurt had meticulously bedazzled his knee-high cast. He'd even cut out small twirls and patters of fabric and carefully positioned them so that the atrocious thing on his leg was more like a work of art than anything else. If he was going to be forced to spend two months in a plaster prison, he might as well do it with style.

He hobbled through the school, people shooting him sympathetic looks or offering their well wishes and apologies, as if they had something to be sorry about. Thankfully, the door to Alcott's music class was open so he didn't have to fumble his crutches around to do it himself. To Kurt's immense surprise, Jordan was sitting in the front of the classroom, one seat away from Blaine. Kurt's usual seat – now empty – sat between them, though they were whispering together, seemingly in moderate spirits.

Jordan looked up to the door, face breaking into a grin when he saw Kurt standing there. Blaine then glanced up, though his expression wasn't nearly as gleeful. He looked more horrorstruck than anything, eye wide as they took in the brace and crutches.

Kurt didn't know _what_ he'd been expecting if not this. Had he thought he'd heal magically over the week? On second thought, he wouldn't be surprised. That would be just like Blaine, always overly idealistic. He crutched his way into the room and struggled his way out of his messenger bag. It didn't take long for Blaine to jump to his feet and take over, sliding the strap over his head easily and lowering the bag gently to the ground.

"Glad to see you on two feet," Jordan said shrewdly.

Blaine cut him a sharp glance, but Kurt merely chuckled bitterly. "One peg leg though…_so_ lame, I know. Pirates were totally 2003."

"It…doesn't look very pirate inspired, to be honest. It looks…like you got attacked by costume jewelry."

Kurt scoffed, as if injured. "This took all day, I'll have you know."

"I think it's a vast improvement," Blaine piped up, the first words he had spoken yet. He turned to Kurt, corner of his mouth tipping up in a smile. "You're alright, all considering, and that's what matters. I'm so glad you're okay – we all are." Blaine and Jordan exchanged a glance, causing Kurt to frown in confusion. When had _this_ happened? "We – well, a bunch of the Warblers really – put something together for you."

"We asked the Alcotts if we could hold off solo auditions for one day, so we could…demonstrate how we feel," Jordan finished.

Kurt was caught completely off-guard, though certainly touched by this mysterious gesture. "I can't wait."

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a horrible, painful blur. By lunch break, Kurt's arms were hurting from crutching all over campus, and his neck was feeling strained in spite of the brace. His French teacher, in the last class of the day, seemed to take pity on him and didn't call on him to answer any of the questions. By the time that class was over, Kurt was more than ready to catch the bus home and sleep for years, but the mysterious draw of what Blaine and Jordan had choreographed proved too strong of a lure.

He was the last Warbler in the music hall of course, having had to slowly crutch there. It occurred to him then that he might just look as horrible as he felt, for Blaine's face contorted in concern. However, none of the other boys showed that same sentiment. It made sense – Blaine did know him better than anyone else ever had.

"Kurt," said Mrs. Alcott kindly, walking up to him and relieving him of his cumbersome shoulder bag. "I didn't get a chance to talk to you in class, I'm sorry. How are you? Doing alright?"

"Having the time of my life," he answered with a forced smile.

"Stupid question," the woman said softly, beaming at him all the while. "This should make you feel better though, I've heard them practicing after Warbler practices." She nodded at the group, who moved into formation.

Not all of the Warblers mobilized. There seemed to be an elite force that made up the singing group. They grouped together in orderly formation behind two wooden stools, which Blaine and Jordan would occupy shortly. Finally, the last two settled down, each with a guitar in hand.

"Kurt," Blaine started, fingers moving idly over the strings, producing a melody subconsciously. "You probably don't realize this, but you brought something to us when you came from the New Directions. I don't think anyone would be able to put a label on it, but the past week, it was notably absent." He paused, the Warblers murmuring in agreement, even the ones in the audience with Kurt.

"This isn't meant to make light of how serious your accident was – we're lucky that you're alive, really. This song is about finding hope in the darkest of situations. It's about looking past the little things that trouble you day to day," Blaine met his eyes meaningfully, "and recognizing the beauty and uniqueness of every moment for what it is."

The random ramblings of his melody began to weave themselves into a distinctive song, and though Kurt didn't recognize it, that only made him listen harder. Soon, Blaine's melody was joined by a different, yet complimentary one from Jordan. Together, they weaved themselves into an intricate array of sounds that rang out purely though the music hall. Jordan was the first once to sing, his rich voice echoing easily through the hall.

_Yes, I'm being followed by a moonshadow_

_Moonshadow, moonshadow_

_Leaping and hopping on a moonshadow_

_Moonshadow, moonshadow_

_And if I ever lose my hands_

_Lose my plow, lose my lands_

_Oh, if I ever lose my lands_

_Oh if…I won't have to work no more_

Kurt listened attentively, the song foreign yet familiar to him. It was simple, as so many songs produced today were not, so Kurt figured that it must be something older. He bit down gently on his bottom lip as he watched Jordan sang, grateful to be able to watch him without being prepared to look away at a second's notice.

He hadn't known that Jordan could play an instrument, though it didn't surprise him. He wasn't quite as adept at it as Blaine was, though that was hardly a fair comparison. Blaine could compose a melody in his sleep and sell it as a number-one hit. Blaine's familiar voice picked up where Jordan's had left off, the Warblers behind them kicking in with a series of calming backup vocals that were, as always, flawless.

_And if I ever lose my eyes_

_If my colors all run dry_

_Yes, if I ever lose my eyes_

_Oh if…I won't have to cry no more_

_Yes, I'm being followed by a moonshadow_

_Moonshadow, moonshadow_

_Leaping and hopping on a moonshadow_

_Moonshadow, moonshadow_

Kurt's eyes slid across the singing Warblers, each one of whom was looking directly at him and him only. He was feeling more self-conscious than he ever had before in his entire life, but it meant more to him than he could express. He hadn't thought that Dalton suited him. It had been too different from McKinley, too different from what he knew and loved so much. But different wasn't bad. It just took more getting used to than he'd anticipated. He was sure that it would, even now, take a while for him to feel completely comfortable in Dalton, but this small gesture was beginning to give him hope.

Jordan began to sing again, and Kurt wondered briefly if he felt the same. He was new to Dalton too, after all. Perhaps he'd mention it sooner than later.

_And if I ever lose my legs_

_I won't moan and I won't beg_

_Yes, if I ever lose my legs_

_I won't have to walk no more_

_And if I ever lose my mouth_

_All my teeth, north and south_

_Yes, if I ever lose my mouth_

_I won't have to talk…_

Blaine and Jordan remained sitting on the stools, but the other singing Warblers began to spread out around them, creating a fanned formation encompassing the breadth of the audience. Kurt glanced covertly to the two Alcotts to see them both beaming at the performers, interlaced hands swinging along with the music.

Blaine was looking out toward Kurt, fingers never making a false step. He smiled reassuringly and dipped his head in a nod as he and Jordan played a melody bereft of words for a moment. His voice was a tad rougher when he sang next, though in retrospect Kurt was able to convince himself that it was his imagination only.

_Did it take long to find me?_

_I asked the faithful light_

_Oh, did it take long to find me?_

_And are you gonna stay the night?_

Immediately, Jordan's voice joined Blaine's in startling harmony.

_Oh, I'm being followed by a moonshadow_

_Moonshadow, moonshadow_

_Leaping and hopping on a moonshadow_

_Moonshadow, moonshadow_

The two repeated the last line in turn, finally closing the song with a fading melody. None of the Warblers said anything, waiting for Kurt's reaction instead. "I…that was…I mean, you guys…" Quickly, Kurt cleared his throat, mentally reprimanding himself for the tight feeling in his chest and the slight teariness of his eyes. "It was…just perfect."

"Perfect enough for Regionals?" Mr. Alcott said with a chuckle, breaking the tension, which Kurt was glad for.

The Warblers broke into smatterings of laughter and various degrees of accordance. Behind the twittering veil presented by the Warblers, Jordan and Blaine interacted unnoticed by Kurt.

"Not bad at all, Anderson," Jordan acquiesced, holding out a hand.

"Can't sing a duet alone," Blaine responded properly, shaking his hand with just the right amount of force. "Thanks for doing that, though. For…Kurt."

"Right," Jordan said slowly. "About that. Look Anderson, I know what you're trying to do with him, a blind man could see that." The older boy paused. "I just thought it was fair to warn you that you aren't the only one who can get what he wants around here."

Blaine's face was serious. "This isn't a game, Jordan," he said quietly. "I'm sorry if that's all it is for you, but Kurt is a person that I care about, and I won't treat him as a prize to be won. I just won't."

"But you _do_ have competition," Jordan insisted. "I won't sit back without trying to get what I want."

Blaine shook his head, as if he pitied the boy in front of him. "You just don't understand," he said, in the same even whisper that he'd been using. He turned to look at Kurt, who was talking animatedly with David. "You can't just…want something for the sake of wanting it, or depriving someone else of it. There's more to life than that."

Jordan clenched his jaw, but didn't say anything. _Blaine_ was the one who didn't understand; no one understood him. He didn't know that Jordan had never wanted to make someone who wasn't himself or Elsa happy, _ever._ That he wanted to learn every joke in the book to get Kurt to smile, maybe even laugh. It wasn't about the game at all. Finally, he glanced side-long at Blaine. "Don't pretend to know me, Anderson."

Blaine contemplated Jordan as he walked away with his things, out of the musical hall even before Mr. Alcott called an official end to the shortened practice. As much as he absolutely loathed admitting it, Jordan's last words rang loud and true.

* * *

_Goodnight - The Beatles_

_Moonshadow - Cat Stevens_


	12. Chapter 12 :: So Close

TWELVE:

Things were extremely strange over the course of the week. Kurt hadn't thought that it was a huge secret that Blaine had disliked Jordan from the start – although now of course, he knew why – but the two had seemed to come to some sort of strange agreement. The Warblers grouped together in their own tighter circles within the larger group, though they all got along with one another, and usually the council members and solo singers made up one of these subgroups. This was where Blaine and Kurt often spent their time, and since Kurt's accident Jordan had seemingly infiltrated their ranks.

He certainly did fit in; in fact he garnered much attention from the other Warblers. Perhaps it was Dalton's policy of acceptance, but Kurt thought that it had more to do with the way Jordan could charm and ultimately win over anybody, or so it seemed. In any case, neither Blaine nor Jordan showed much animosity toward the other, just semi-forced politeness or indifference altogether, as if they were conscientiously ignoring the other.

If there was thing that was common among all the Warblers though, it was that their combined consideration toward Kurt's condition had grown to astronomical proportions. That said Kurt had to admit that with his neck brace and casted leg he was quite a sorry sight to behold. The doctors had told him not to strain himself or raise his voice for the next week or so, which meant that he sat quietly during Warbler practices. That in itself wasn't a catastrophe, since they were still testing the waters of the Alcotts' idea, and Kurt had already sung his solo. The physician had assured him that he would be able to sing as good as new by the next week, though it was still undetermined as to whether his cast would be removed in time for Regionals. That was a prospect that Kurt didn't want to face until it was absolutely inevitable.

In spite of Kurt's obliviousness, Blaine knew that neither he nor Jordan had forgotten what happened. As much as the former lead Warbler absolutely loathed the fact that Jordan was making this into some perverted contest, he couldn't help but find a degree of assurance in what he knew to be a sign of Kurt's feelings toward him: that kiss. The other boy hadn't mentioned it nor made any sign that it was lingering in his memory, but Blaine was positive that couldn't be true. After all, _he_ hadn't been the one to initiate that kiss. That had been Kurt, Blaine had only reciprocated.

He wanted it to be simple. Blaine knew that Kurt felt something for him, he _knew_ that. He wanted that to be the end of it; he wanted to be _with_ Kurt, wanted to hold his hand under the table during class and exchange a smile whose secret would remain forever between the two of them. He just wanted to be with Kurt. Blaine wasn't going to call it love, because he didn't want to depreciate the moment that he reached that level that a person could never come back from. But he could never deny the degree of emotion that he felt, a feeling that words couldn't sufficiently describe.

One thing was certain: Jordan Aaron was not going to compromise what could one day be. Blaine wouldn't let that happen. He saw a future, and he would be damned before he let that slip through his fingers. Thankfully, he knew Kurt almost better than he knew himself. He knew what the other boy liked and didn't like, he'd been his best friend before anything else and Blaine was confident in his knowledge of the other boy. What Kurt loved more than almost anything else in the world was expressing himself through song.

He'd sat through enough musicals by his side, sneaking covert peeks at Kurt's expression during the movies, to see the way his mouth opened slightly and his eyes got distant during the musical numbers, especially the more romantic ones. It was something that set Kurt apart from many other people, he genuinely believed in the purity of musical expression, as did Blaine. It had been why he'd sung that particular song to Kurt last week, the song that had perfectly described his feelings in that moment and it was why by the end of the week, Blaine had chosen a perfect song for Mrs. Alcott's test, which he was scheduled to perform that Monday.

The music teacher had said to sing a song that was meant as a message to somebody, and who better to send a message to right now then Kurt? He'd said that he was confused, and Blaine wanted to clear up that confusion as soon as possible so that Kurt could see how _right_ they would be. He was willing to fight for Kurt's affections, if that was what it took.

Every spare moment that weekend was spent practicing. Blaine was set on making this perfect. At one point during the weekend, he even mustered up the courage to call several Warblers together to perform for them and get their opinions and suggestions.

"It's just for music class, Blaine," said David, shaking his head with clear exasperation at being woken up early Sunday morning. "I mean, it would be one thing if this was for your Warbler solo, but this is so…mundane. You know that you'll ace that class, especially with Alcott teaching it since she _directs_ the Warblers."

Blaine drummed his fingers on the side of the grand piano that sat in a reception room of the too-large Anderson household, debating on how much to tell them. They _were_ his friends; they'd been with him before Kurt had. Blaine hadn't formed the same attachment with them, as if they were kindred spirits. It had always been more like he was their leader, in spite of the fact that Wes and David were both older than him.

"But you know that isn't true." Blaine looked up at Wes in surprise, shocked at the senior's words. Seeing Blaine's reaction, Wes exchanged a smirking glance with the junior Warbler Jeffrey Sterling. "Right, Blaine?" Blaine narrowed his eyes and glared at the two, thankful to see David looking mildly puzzled.

Jeff smiled innocently. "So…perhaps you'd like to explain? Don't try to pull any wool over anyone's eyes here, either. We know you too well."

Blaine rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I – I don't…"

"More like he wears his emotions on his sleeve," Wes commented to Jeff, seemingly ignoring Blaine altogether. "He doesn't actually _say_ anything, although he calls us over on weekends to complain about making wrong impressions on certain people, and I'm sure he knows that he could confide _anything_ in us."

"Fine," Blaine growled, burying his beet-red face in his hands. "You obviously _know_. What do you want from me?"

"A little faith would be nice," David remarked, grinning and crossing his arms across his chest. "We actually aren't totally untrustworthy, you know."

"I don't see what the problem is," Jeff stated. "Kurt's obviously been pining for ages –"

"He's _what_?" Blaine interjected, triggering eye rolling from all three.

"You cannot be that oblivious," Jeff denied, holding his hands up in denial. The astonishment on Blaine's face seemed to negate that statement. Yes, yes he could be.

"Well great…" Blaine commented, throwing his hands in the air. "Of course I would undoubtedly wait until _now_, when it's potentially too late, to do anything at all. Fabulous."

"Too late?" Wes asked suspiciously. Blaine returned a level gaze at him, lips pressed tightly shut. Wes raised an eyebrow and turned his head to the side. "Anything else you have yet to let us in on?"

"Oh come on, you know about where Kurt was supposed to go on Valentine's Day." He was met with blank stares. Was it possible that _no one_ knew?

"You were fighting…"

"Because of…you know…Jordan." Six eyebrows rose in perfect timing with one another. "You didn't know?"

"_No_," Wes said with finality. "That same Jordan whom we _just_ accepted in to the Warblers?" Blaine's silence affirmed it. "Is _that_ why you didn't want to let him in? Blaine…if you want to, that is…I think you should just start from the beginning."

Blaine only hesitated for a moment. He needed this more than he'd realized, to get this weight off his chest. Perhaps Wes, David, or Jeff could actually help him in some way. At the very least they could be moral support, which was something that everyone needed to some degree. Usually Kurt was Blaine's moral support, but he wasn't a valid option as someone to vent to on this particular subject. One thing that Blaine conveniently left out was any mention of Kurt finding the bruises on his arms. The countertenor seemed to have momentarily forgotten about his discovery in the aftermath of his own accident, and Blaine was not about to bring it to the light again. It would be better if the subject were laid to rest once and for all.

He talked from the very beginning, from what had happened when he'd spoken to Wes and David that weekend almost a month ago. He spoke through inadvertently meeting Jordan at the theatre and then seeing him later at school. He told them about the song he'd sung to Kurt on Valentine's Day, and how Kurt had kissed him – news which the three of them received with much jumping and excited hollering, and many claps on the back – and then about how Kurt had really gotten into the accident and how they'd found him afterward.

The three Warblers sat at perfect attention through the entire story (except during their momentary celebration), sitting in momentary silence when Blaine was done. After a moment, David cleared his throat, and everybody turned to look at him. "Don't play it on guitar – it's a piano song, and I think I remember there being one in the music hall."

"Are you allowed to have backup vocals?" Jeff enthused quickly after David finished speaking. "I can call Fitz and Nick, we've totally got your back on that."

"Sometimes you do this weird pain-face when you're singing," Wes blurted, waving his hands around. "I would try to avoid that, try to preserve the moment. I know you're in a classroom full of people, but that doesn't mean it can't be romantic."

"Make sure you use the pedal, but let up on it when you're playing the higher notes." That was David, making a pedal-pushing movement with his hand. "The blending together sounds nice on the lower notes, but the high ones are much more powerful if they're distinctive."

"_Don't_ look at the keys." Jeff. "You do that when you're nervous, you don't look at the audience like you should."

"Especially during that last mini-verse before the final repetition of the chorus." David. "That's the key part, I think. You're going to want to be looking at Kurt, if only to see his reaction."

"I only wish _we_ could," Wes finished, looking regretfully at David.

Blaine was struck into silence for a moment, gaping at his friends before his face stretched into a slow smile. He had never been gladder to have decided to confess something to a third party. "You guys," he said slowly. "Are way too good to me."

Jeff rolled his eyes and Wes and David exchanged a knowing glance before they launched once more into an enthusiastic session of advice-giving.

* * *

Monday morning rolled around and Blaine was looking forward to his response to Alcott's test. Altogether, the presentations should take all week. Jordan and Kurt would likely both go on Wednesday morning, the next class session after Monday. Blaine was scheduled to perform the first day, his name being early in the alphabet.

Once in class, he didn't speak to anyone about the song he was singing, and no one asked. He knew Kurt well enough to be able to say with certainly that the other boy would be curious. He'd have been curious in spite of the prompt and in spite of the circumstances. With every current factor weighing in, that would only be magnified. Blaine could speak from experience, as he was certainly curious to find out what Kurt would be singing later in the week. But he had to take things one step at a time.

He only had to wait through the performance of Andrew Thomas before he was called to the front by Mrs. Alcott, who was sitting in her chair near the front of the class.

"Mrs. Alcott?" Blaine asked, adopting a charming grin. "I was just wondering…I mean, I'll still be singing the song, but could I get a little bit of backup?"

"This isn't the Warblers, Blaine," the woman said with a short, doubtful laugh.

Blaine looked into the crowd. Kurt was frowning slightly, seemingly confused. Behind where he sat in the front row, Nick, Jeff, and Fitz were looking at him expectantly. Blaine nodded slightly and they came forward, standing beside him and giving their director their most charming gentlemanly grins.

Mrs. Alcott looked back and forth between the three of them, conflict plain on her face. "No one plays an instrument besides Blaine," she clarified, holding up a finger in warning. "Backup vocals only, no hints of solos from anyone who _isn't_ Blaine…alright?"

"Your wish is our command, Capitan," Fitz said with a mock-salute, to which the teacher rolled her eyes and laughed reluctantly.

The three Warblers got in a small line to the side of the mini-grand, which was one of the many musical instruments. The music hall held a true grand piano, but size was an issue in the relatively smaller classroom.

"Do you wish to tell us who you're directing this song to, Blaine?" Mrs. Alcott asked. "Or would you rather keep it a secret?"

"I think that the person who I picked this song for is smart enough know that I'm singing for them," Blaine answered as he sat on the stool, not looking at Kurt, though he could feel his eyes resting on him.

Alcott nodded and looked down to write something in her book, presumably notes about the instrument choice or backup singers. Belatedly, Blaine glanced at Kurt to see his eyes still trained on him. His own eyes widened slightly and he nodded once, ducking his head away afterward. It was enough to indicate what he was sure that Kurt had already known – this song was for him and only him.

Blaine had not looked over at Jordan, sitting to Kurt's left, but if he had he would have seen how the boy pursed his lips together and how his arms were crossed tightly over his chest.

Instead, he began to play the first soulful notes of the sing that he'd so meticulously picked out. When the time came to sing the lyrics to go along with the soft melody, Blaine lifted his eyes from the piano keys and shocked Kurt by making direct eye contact.

_You're in my arms, and all the world is calm_

_The music playing on for only two_

_So close together, and when I'm with you_

_So close to feeling alive_

Kurt had now been sung to by Blaine far more than once, yet somehow every instance was different. When they'd sung the duet from _Phantom_, Kurt had thought it was all for show. During "From Me to You", he'd spent the time trying to calculate out the exact percentage chance that Blaine could possibly be singing to him. It hadn't been until Blaine had sung "Just So You Know" in the music hall that Kurt had been positive he was being serenaded, and that instance was currently a bit fuzzy, seeing as he'd been having difficulty breathing throughout the entire thing…not to mention that when they'd finally kissed, all other thoughts fled Kurt's mind entirely.

But now his mind housed none of that doubt. Kurt knew who the song was intended for, and he knew that Blaine would never sing something he didn't mean. The fact that Jordan sat a foot to his left while this was happening only made the circumstance all the more surreal. In fact, this wasn't private in the least – the entire class would have to be blind to not see how Blaine's eyes never left Kurt while he was singing, how those amber pools were wide with something that couldn't be described as anything short of pleading.

_As life goes by, romantic dreams will stop_

_So I bid mine goodbye and never knew_

_So close was waiting, waiting here with you_

_And now forever I know all that I wanted: to hold you so close_

The class had fallen into complete and utter silence. Perhaps it was the way Blaine sang with an emotion that was almost aching. Perhaps it was how they'd all noticed the blooms of color that rose in Kurt's pale cheeks, or how his mouth was opened in a continual gape, or how his eyes harbored an unreadable emotion.

Mrs. Alcott covertly followed Blaine's line of vision into the audience, her keen eyes taking in everything along the way and finally settling on Kurt's conflicted expression. She bit down on her bottom lip softly, willing herself not to regret assigning this project. It was healthy for teenagers to be able to vent emotion in a way that wasn't drinking, or drugs, or fighting.

However, she wasn't a stupid woman. She'd been there when Jordan had sung "Hot-Blooded" for his Warbler tryout, and his current thin-lipped expression did not escape her notice. No one could deny the magnificence that was Blaine when he was performing though, she thought as she looked back at the boy who had taken the lead in the Warblers so often. Seeing him now, she realized that to stifle talent with meaningless projects was far worse than to assign something so personal.

What was more, he made the other students push themselves and strive for their own best. Jeff, Nick, and Fitz were currently watching Blaine with observant eyes, waiting for the moment when they were to kick in with the series of complementary vocals that they'd all perfected in the glee club. When next Blaine sung, they began a perfectly harmonized series of sounds that brought a smile to Bridgette's face.

_So close to reaching that famous happy end_

_Almost believing this was not pretend_

_Now you're beside me, and look how far we've come_

_So far…we are so close_

Blaine had not taken his eyes from Kurt once since he'd started performing, his hands nevertheless hitting every note perfectly. He was trying to remember everything that Wes, David, and Jeff had told him yesterday: when he felt his face wanting to crumple up on a particularly heartfelt note he refrained; he took his foot off the pedal before the notes got too clogged, leaving it off for the high notes to sound distinct.

He could hear when the three other Warblers kicked in at the moment he'd asked them too, but he could see nothing but Kurt's expression. Even as he'd never looked away from Kurt, Kurt had not looked away from him. He was observing Blaine with an intensity that made his heart race in his chest and a light sheen of nervous sweat crop up on his forehead. Doubts began to filter through his mind, as they always did. Blaine wished for the millionth time that he could see what was going through Kurt's mind behind his flawless porcelain face.

He chewed his bottom lip slightly through the segment where piano took over the vocals. Briefly he glanced at Jordan, who was observing Blaine with a pensiveness that was almost unsettling. Fighting off the scowl that wanted to take up residence on his face upon looking at the older boy, Blaine looked back to Kurt in the moment before he sang once more.

_Oh how could I face the faceless days_

_If I should lose you now?_

Blaine's lips turned upward in a small smile as he saw Kurt's fisted hand rise to rest on his chest, and action that he made when he was feeling overcome by some sort of strong emotion. Their previously unbroken eye contact was shattered when Kurt suddenly looked down, eyes travelling up slowly to peer at Blaine from under his lashes.

_We're so close to reaching that famous happy end_

_And almost believing this was not pretend_

_Let's go on dreaming, for we know we are_

_So close, so close and still so far_

The quiet piano notes faded out soon after the words, as did the backup from the three standing Warblers. It seemed that the class didn't know how to react. After Andrew's rendition of "You Shook Me All Night Long", no one had been expecting the genuineness that had been Blaine's song. Blank stares were met with blank stares for a moment before Mrs. Alcott began to clap politely, soon followed by the others as they realized their manners once more.

With a smile that only she knew was wrought with knowingness, Bridgette thanked Blaine as he left the front of the class and sat back down in his seat. "So…how-how was it?" Having overheard Blaine's pathetically puppy-like question, Jordan rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, feeling confident that he had nothing to worry about. The fact that he felt the need to ask said something indeed.

Blaine's large eyes were trained on Kurt, whose heart was still echoing through his chest. Honestly, what was he supposed to say to that? Was he supposed to tell Blaine that with that one song he'd made up Kurt's mind so suddenly? "I…well, it was…" Kurt cleared his throat, scrambling for words. Deciding that truth was the best option, he turned his blue eyes to Blaine's amber.

He took in the glimmer of hope they possessed, and Kurt had to struggle to hide the small smile that threatened to take over his lips. To think that Blaine could ever feel that way about him was still mindboggling, and it sent a tremor of disbelief coursing through Kurt's being, in spite of his conflict. But he did have to keep the senior Warbler's presence in mind. It frightened Kurt that he could care about preserving someone this much, that he could care about looking after Jordan's mentality to this degree.

Kurt's head tipped to the side slightly and he tried to push his emotions out through his eyes. "It was…telling." His hand rose up in a type of defense mechanism, resting on his neck which was newly free of its brace and rubbing the delicate skin there. "Can –"

Mrs. Alcott called attention to the next performer at that moment, and Kurt shot a look at Blaine that said he still had something to say; they sat quiet through the rest of the class. When the bell rang, Jordan ran off saying something about an extension he needed to request for a paper due to his shows in Tiffin, leaving Blaine and Kurt alone.

"Let me, please," Blaine asked, grabbing Kurt's bag as the boy temporarily struggled with it.

"No, I –" He began to protest before realizing what a great help it would actually be. "Well, thanks. It _is_ a little hard to get around. I better be well before the next competition."

Blaine said nothing, merely took the bag onto his shoulder and held the door open while Kurt crutched his way out of the room. "So listen, Kurt," Blaine started. "That might have been…forward, but I just wanted you to know that…it's what I think. I don't want to hide anything from you anymore."

Kurt was quiet for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "And it was really…perfect," he agreed, sending a heated thrill through Blaine's chest. "I know you said that I didn't have to say anything about it, that you wouldn't tell anyone what had happened but…" Blaine's eyes shifted to the side – he'd told Wes, David, and Jeff – but Kurt looked at him, eyes serious. "We can't pretend that nothing happened."

"O – er, alright…"

"And I don't want to." His gaze didn't flicker from Blaine's. "I don't want to pretend that never happened…that I didn't kiss you…and that you didn't kiss me back." Blaine was the one to break eye contact, looking away as his cheeks flushed scarlet. "You should know that I don't regret it."

Blaine looked back, hesitantly. "You don't? I thought, when you ran away crying, that might have been a sign that things didn't go so well."

"No. I mean, how could I ever regret something like that when I…"

"Yes?"

"When I had wanted it to happen for so long?" Kurt's words brought a smile to Blaine's lips, and a strange uncomfortable soaring feeling to his heart. "I can't lie and say that I don't _feel_ anything. That wouldn't be fair to either of us."

Blaine gaped like a fish out of water, hardly believing that Kurt was saying these things in the middle of a hallway at Dalton. "I – sure, you know that all I want is you and –"

"I get to sing for Alcott's test on Wednesday," Kurt interrupted. He let a smile onto his lips, eyes softening. "I found the perfect song. I'm singing it to you." Leaving Blaine with a gape still on his face, Kurt relieved him of his bag and crutched away down the hall.

* * *

_So Close - Jon McLaughlin_

* * *

_A/N: Next time- Jordan and Kurt both sing their songs for Alcott's test, and both of them carry heavy messages. Afterwards, Blaine decides to use his solo try out for the Warblers as a means to take the situation into his own hands._


	13. Chapter 13 :: If You C Jordan

_A/N: Finally, you guys get to see how Jordan got his name, and more importantly the song that started it all! The last song in this chapter is the one that originally gave me the general idea for this fic! Of course since then it has grown more complex. Anyway, I'm a huge Something Corporate fan and the song in question, though one of their less meaningful ones, has always made me giggle. One day, I was wondering exactly how mad someone would have to be at another person to actually sing that and of course I automatically thought it would be interesting to set it to a Klaine scene (because I think that to some extent with pretty much every song that reaches my ears), and then of course I needed a third wheel - and that was how Jordan was born._

_When you see the song I'm talking about, if you haven't heard it or figured it out already, I fully endorse and even encourage a bit of laughter at my expense. It's a terribly shallow reason for making a character, I know. I even almost made him a ginger, but by that point I'd established his character in my head and since I like to write with exact ideas of how each character looks, I was already picturing a non-ginger casting for him that proved impossible to eradicate. Looking back on it, that would have been a little too coincidental :)_

_Also, I'm going to start putting a section at the end with the song names and artists, that way if anyone takes a fancy to a song I include it will be easier to look it up! At some point, I'll go back and edit them into the prior chapters as well. (As a little teaser, there's another Something Corporate song in the next chapter, sung by our own beloved countertenor! Rest assured that it is considerably more emotional and meaningful than this one.)_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

THIRTEEN:

"So, tell me why you couldn't pick _any_ other song to sing beside this one?"

Kurt leveled his gaze at his friend. "Mercedes, I _told_ you. Besides, have you heard the words? This song is perfect."

She still looked unsure. "Yeah, I know the message is there but…Kurt, this just isn't something that _you_ would typically sing."

"And that's why I need your help." He smiled widely and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Who better to give me advice on how to sing this than you?"

"Well, _nobody_ can bust out this song like I can."

"Exactly." Kurt turned back toward the printed lyrics, trying to commit them to memory. "So, I honestly don't even know where to start."

Mercedes thought for a moment. Kurt had told her the meaning behind the song of course, just as he told her everything. "Well confidence is the first and most important step," she advised. "You're talented, Kurt. More talented than anyone ever gave you credit for at McKinley." Kurt shot her a fond glance and she shrugged. "I guess they just can't handle more than one diva. But what I'm _trying_ to say is that you perform best when you're emotional, when you _really_ mean it."

Kurt couldn't disagree with her. When he was trying for an effect, things never came out the way that he meant them to. But when he just let the emotions take over the song for him, he even impressed himself. "I suppose so…"

"And don't try to act like the song _sounds_ like it should be acted," Mercedes added with a hearty chuckle. "Now _I_ could pull that off, but not a little white boy like you. Sing it like how _Kurt_ would sing it."

Without words, Kurt put his arms around his friend's shoulders, burying his face into the side of her neck. "I hate not having girls to talk to at Dalton," he complained dramatically.

"You should _stop_ complaining, I would give my left arm to be surrounded all day by boys in private school uniforms that randomly burst into song and dance."

"It isn't random. But it sounds like someone's jealous, mmm?" He asked with a wide grin, perching his chin on her shoulder. In response, Mercedes shoved him back on the bed. "Hey watch it, you're abusing a cripple!"

Kurt sighed and leaned his head back on the pillow. "This…is going to be a catastrophe."

* * *

Wednesday morning dawned sunny, as so many lately had not. Now that it was the second day of March, sunny days would be increasingly frequent. The sun couldn't do anything to calm Kurt's nerves, however. He told himself that trying to sing this song would not only be expressive in terms of his own self, but it would also benefit him in terms of Regionals. Though Mrs. Alcott was supposed to be only their music teacher in those hours during class, she would not be able to forget a brilliant performance. Proving his versatility was something that Kurt wanted to achieve desperately.

The class was a problem, but that was the nature of the assignment. Kurt doubted that Mrs. Alcott had guessed the project would be used this way when she assigned it, and if she had he doubted that she would have gone through with it. His own song wouldn't be the same as when Blaine had sung to him and _only_ him in the Warbler's music hall.

Amongst all this thought of himself, Kurt had completely forgotten that Jordan would actually be singing before he did. In fact, it escaped his paranoid mind until that morning in class, when Jordan actually walked through the door and sat by his left side.

Immediately, he was curious as to what the older boy would have picked; namely, if he was who it would be directed at. Shortly after thinking such a thing, Kurt reprimanded himself. Not every song in the world would now be directed to _him_, simply because a few had been. He was ashamed of how self-assured he had become in such a short period of time. Self-assurance in his personal capabilities was another matter entirely.

"Have any trouble with this project?" Jordan asked conversationally, grinning politely at Kurt.

"Uh...yes. Well, a bit…I suppose." Kurt cleared his throat and looked straight ahead, determined to keep his pale cheeks from flushing as they were bound to do at any moment.

"Really?" Jordan leaned back in his chair and if Kurt had been looking, he would have seen the trouble-making smile which rested on his features. "I didn't have any trouble at all. I guess that's just what happens when you really have something to say, isn't it?"

Kurt didn't respond, but he frowned slightly. What was _that_ supposed to mean? Was he insinuating something about how Kurt had been acting in regards to their situation? The countertenor was finding that he didn't much enjoy this harsh, competitive side of Jordan.

Blaine entered a moment later, putting a stop to talk of song selection. He gave Kurt a silent glance, which was enough for Kurt to glean that he _hadn't_ dreamed up telling Blaine that the song he'd sing today was for him. That knowledge now sitting secure, Kurt was only more unsettled.

Today's class was, in general, a vast improvement upon the one two days ago. It seemed that people really had begun to take the project seriously, and the presentations provided startling insights into some students. Jeff's rendition of "Purple Rain" had Kurt shocked into silence. He hadn't known that Jeff's talent extended so far, but now he realized that he'd just never seen it. Perhaps the new order to the Warblers would be a good thing, Kurt realized, if there were more people with talents like Jeff. Of course, he would not for a moment believe that the solo belonged to anybody but himself.

"Jordan." Kurt was shocked violently out of his ponderings by Mrs. Alcott's voice. They were at Jordan already? Well that made sense, it was immediately after Jeff. Kurt sat up a little straighter, though he felt Blaine stiffen beside him.

The brunette grabbed an acoustic guitar from the small selection that the classroom held, and pulled up a stool to sit on while he played. "I'm changing a few of the words," Jordan said apologetically, looking at the teacher. "Is that alright, Mrs. Alcott?"

"Perfectly," she responded with a nod, taking a note in her grade book. "That just makes it that much more applicable to the assignment, don't you think? Whenever you're ready, Jordan."

The senior nodded and set about to making sure the guitar was tuned to his purposes. He began to play a deceptively simple melody, one that repeated itself. After a few repetitions in the same manner, he began with the lyrics.

_You've got him in your pocket_

_Where there's no way out, now_

_Put it in the safe and lock it_

'_Cause it's home sweet home_

Slowly, Kurt sunk back into his chair. This was _not_ a song for him. He dreaded the prospect of looking at Blaine, sitting so close to his side. Kurt could feel the tension pouring off of him, fully palpable.

Instead, he kept his eyes on Jordan. The performer looked up from where he'd been watching his fingers on the chords and smiled, but not at Kurt. He was smiling at Blaine, whom Kurt could still feel sitting stock-still by his side. Jordan inclined his head in a mockery of a nod. Kurt was bristling slightly at this clear calling out. Had _he_ started this? Or had this silly rivalry begun to take on a life of its own? It was a low-blow, to be sure, and Kurt was not comfortable with it.

_Nobody ever told you that it was the wrong way_

_To trick a person, make him think he did it his way_

_And you'll be there if he ever feels blue_

_And you'll be there when he finds someone new_

_What to do?_

Blaine's jaw was pressed into a tight line, and he could feel his temple starting to pulse. Was Jordan sinking this low? Was what he was saying actually _true?_ Whatever the answer was, Blaine was thoroughly disgusted. He'd had some respect for Jordan previously, albeit a small amount. He was a talented performer and all he had wanted was to have a chance, which was the same thing Blaine had wanted. Jordan's actions surrounding Kurt's accident had made Blaine believe that he actually might care about the countertenor.

But Blaine would have never done what Jordan was doing now. He wouldn't have publically depreciated the other boy with no cause, even if was through song. If anything, this only strengthened his resolve that Kurt should never end up with Jordan. He didn't _belong_ with someone like that. Kurt was fragile, he didn't engage in the sort of dirty tricks of romance that Jordan was using now. Kurt needed someone to look after him; he needed _Blaine._

_Well you know_

_You keep him in your pocket_

_Where there's no way out, now_

_Put it in a safe and lock it_

'_Cause its home sweet home_

Jordan watched Blaine's expression with self-assurance. He was mad, and that was good. It meant that he knew that Jordan was singing to him. Of course, he wasn't being as obvious as stupid Blaine had been when he'd sung his song the other day. He didn't want _everyone_ in the class to know whom he was singing to. He liked to keep at least a little privacy in his life. It was just one more thing he was more adept at than Blaine, to add to the list that was forming in his mind.

With any luck, the song would impart some sort of message on the thickheaded dolt, and he would back off and come to his senses. Couldn't he see that he was the one who had messed everything up? _He_ was the one making Kurt unhappy. If he had left well enough alone, as he should have, Jordan knew that he could have been with Kurt right now, happy. Instead he was singing to another man in a music class. It was horrid, but it had to be done.

_The smile on your face made him think he had the right one_

_Then he thought he was sure by the way you two could have fun_

_But now he might leave like he's threatened before_

_Grab hold of him fast before his feet leave the floor_

_And he's out the door_

Bridgette wanted to rub her temple. Of course it would fall to this. At least it was sufficiently cryptic, and luckily Blaine hadn't gotten up and stormed out yet. He was a mature teen, and she thought that he could rise above this if he tried. She reminded herself once more that she had asked for this. Never again.

'_Cause you want_

_To keep him in your pocket_

_Where there's no way out, now_

_Put it in a safe and lock it_

'_Cause its home sweet home_

Carefully, Kurt inched his head sideways to look at Blaine. He did not like what he saw there. Blaine's face was set in a heavy scowl, eyes narrowed and arms crossed over his chest. He didn't even seem to notice that Kurt was observing him; he kept his eyes straight ahead, looking at Jordan. The singer did not keep his eyes on Blaine but he looked at multiple people at various places in the room. Even so, there was little doubt in Kurt's mind.

_And in your own mind _

_You know you're lucky just to know him_

_And in the beginning all you wanted was to show him_

_But now you're scared_

_You think he's running away_

_You search in your hand for something clever to say_

_Don't go away_

Blaine clenched his teeth tighter and looked away from Jordan, not able to stand the sight of him any longer. The worst part about the entire situation was that not everything Jordan was singing was completely false. He _was_ lucky to have known Kurt. He meant more to Blaine than he could understand; Kurt had saved him more than the other way around. Kurt had his friends in McKinley's New Directions…Blaine didn't have anyone to support him like that. Acquaintances didn't suffice in times of great need. Blaine only had Kurt. Jordan was right.

'_Cause I want_

_To keep you in my pocket_

_Where there's no way out_

_Put it in a safe and lock it_

'_Cause its home sweet home_

_Home sweet home_

The song ended, just like that. Jordan was grinning happily at the crowd, who had not picked up on any of the undertones that Blaine, Kurt, and Bridgette had. He returned the guitar and walked back to his seat with a spring in his step.

His lightness of attitude shocked Kurt. How could he _act_ like that? How could he sit down again, saying nothing and pretending like nothing had just happened? Kurt had previously held some lingering reservations about Jordan's response to the song he planned to sing to Blaine. Those feelings had all flown out the window with what Jordan had just done. Kurt no longer doubted the price of expressing himself in such a way. Despite that, conflict still made up a small part of his thoughts. Perhaps there was still the slightest chance that he'd misunderstood.

It wasn't enough to sway him in the emotion behind the song. Seeing Blaine's reaction to being called out in such a way made Kurt suddenly protective, as he was sure he would have been had the situation been reversed and Blaine had sung such a thing to Jordan. Of course, Kurt couldn't ever imagine Blaine doing such a thing.

He missed what Alcott said about Jordan, but he recognized his own name when she called it soon after. Kurt grabbed the piano-based instrumental track from his bag and stuck it into the player. He'd practiced beginning the song what seemed like a million times, counting the seconds between where the vocals were supposed to start and when the instruments followed, adding exactly the right amount of blank seconds to the beginning to give him allowance to sing the segment with no melody.

Keeping that timing in mind, Kurt pressed the start button on the cassette player and sat down on the stool that Jordan had dragged out – his cast prevented him from moving much during performances. He would sing it and it would sound wonderful, Kurt told himself. Thinking positive, he began the first few a cappella lines.

_I keep on fallin'_

_In and out of love_

_With you_

Just as they were supposed to, the piano notes began to accompany Kurt's voice. He heard a few bubbles of disbelieving laughter rising up from the class, but he ignored them. If they wanted to think of him a certain way for singing a song that was so far from his usual style, then fine.

He knew that Blaine wouldn't feel that way, and his was the only opinion that fully mattered right now. Even Jordan had fallen in Kurt's esteem after the way he'd sung to Blaine.

_Sometimes I love you_

_Sometimes you make me blue_

_Sometimes I feel good_

_At times I feel used_

_Loving you darling_

_Makes me so confused_

Kurt made sure to look at Blaine's reaction, for someone's initial reaction was how you gleaned their true feelings. Blaine's eyes were puppy-wide, blinking largely every few seconds. He sat still, though in a different way that how he had positioned himself during Jordan's song.

_I keep on fallin'_

_In and out of love with you_

_I never loved someone_

_The way that I love you_

From the moment that Kurt began singing, Blaine was thrown into a place of conflict. On one hand, to Blaine's mind at least, this might be as good as a confession. On the other hand, he couldn't help but listen to the actual lyrics. Confessional as they might be, there was a distinct negative side to them. Songs were an excellent way of expressing yourself, Blaine knew that, but the problem was that since they weren't your own words no one listening to them knew how much of what was said actually applied. It was a bittersweet conflict.

_Oh, oh I never felt this way_

_How do you give me so much pleasure?_

_And cause me so much pain?_

_Just when I think_

_I've taken more than would a fool_

_I start fallin' back in love with you_

Jordan narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. What was _this_ supposed to mean? Hopefully it only meant that Kurt was realizing Blaine was his problem, as Jordan had wanted all along. Anyone else would have been discouraged by the exchange, but not Jordan. He was as self-assured as ever.

Two seats away, Blaine noticed the way that Jordan bristled at first, then relaxed and kicked his feet out. Did he care _that_ little? It bothered Blaine more than it should, and he could feel frustration building up like a pressure inside of him.

_I keep on fallin'_

_In and out of love with you_

_I never loved someone_

_The way that I love you_

Kurt deeply hoped that Blaine was garnering what he should: that it wasn't that Kurt didn't care about him, he was just _torn_. He was still miffed at Jordan for brining Blaine into the problem like he had with his song, but that didn't dissolve everything that he felt. Finality, a sense of what was irrevocably right, would come with time and thought; Kurt was sure of this.

_I'm fallin'_

_In and out of love with you_

_I never loved someone_

_The way that I love you_

He repeated the last verse once more as the song faded out, finishing to the polite applause of the class as well as Mrs. Alcott, who was smiling softly. As Kurt returned to his seat, he attempted to smile at Blaine but the other Warbler only managed a strangled half-smile in return. Kurt sat in mild confusion, not able to look at Jordan after his display. He realized completely that the other boy would, and should, completely back off after this. In fact, that would make things much simpler. Kurt didn't want to be the one to push Jordan away, but if he left proactively Kurt couldn't help but think that things would be much simpler.

He sat through the rest of the class silently, twiddling his thumbs through the other performances. When the bell rang, Blaine got up quickly and almost ran to the door. Not taking time to make an excuse to Jordan, Kurt quickly grabbed his crutches and sped out of the room. Having been on them for a week, speed with efficiency was coming easier to him.

"Hey," he called out as he exited the classroom in favor of the hallway. "Wait a minute." In a seeming reluctant fashion, Blaine stopped and turned around. Kurt crutched over to him, stopping a few feet away. "I – I mean, the other day I said I was singing to you…so?"

"So," Blaine repeated slowly. "I don't know! So what? What am I supposed to think?"

Kurt was shocked. "W-what do you mean? I thought that you would be more…happy."

Blaine shrugged, not making eye contact. "I don't know, Kurt. Jordan sings some shit about me tricking you into thinking I'll be there when you're blue, and how I keep you trapped and locked up in a safe – "

"Blaine, you know that isn't –"

"_Can you let me finish?_" Kurt quieted. "And then you go on about how sometimes _I_ make you blue, and how _I_ cause you pain. What am I supposed to be happy about, again?"

"Maybe you should be happy about everything _else_ that it said," Kurt told him angrily. "Or do you only hear the negative? You aren't perfect, Blaine Anderson."

"No," he agreed. "But I'm _ten_ times more perfect than that other idiot. Why can't you see that?" His tone was turning pleading. "It doesn't matter how you feel if you might feel it for someone else at the same time. Kurt, why can't you see that I just want _you_? I just want you to myself, and I don't think that's too much to wish for."

Kurt scoffed in shock, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. Had those words just come out of Blaine's mouth? "Yes," he answered quietly, thinking about the song Jordan had sung. "When I've told you that I just don't _know_, when I've told you how conflicted I am. When you should just let me _think_ and accept how I feel, but instead you insist on trying to pin me down. Isn't that exactly what Jordan's song accused you of? I didn't fathom that it could be true."

Kurt limped off, leaving Blaine to wonder how that conversation had turned against him so quickly. Kurt accused him of being like Jordan's song…that didn't make his words _true._ It made Kurt misguided, didn't it?

"Lover's quarrel," said a voice from the classroom door, tone pitying. "_So_ pathetic."

Blaine glared at Jordan as he left the doorframe and walked toward him. "What in the _world_ could you want? Do you make a habit of eavesdropping everywhere you go? You haven't come to gloat, I'm sure."

"Never," Jordan promised. "Even if I did seem to hit quite a nerve."

"You are not a factor in this, Aaron," Blaine clarified, trying to walk away. Jordan followed him. "You're a funny footnote in the greater picture. A speck of dirt in the lens."

"Ooh, that was poetic!" Jordan mocked. "Did you write Kurt poetry like that? Maybe that's why he's running away…"

"_Leave me alone_."

"Testy, eh? Is someone suddenly feeling less secure in their supposed position?"

"You wish, don't you?" Blaine shot back, spinning around and glaring at the older boy. "Why did have to do that? Why did you single me out like that in front of everyone?"

"You mean kind of like how you singled _him_ out in front of everyone?" Jordan asked. "Except a million times _less_ obvious."

"I mean how could you _attack_ someone through song like that?" Jordan didn't answer, he merely shrugged his shoulders. "Two can play at any game, Aaron. I'm tired of trying to rise above you and I can't just let you walk all over me in front of Kurt."

"Wow Anderson," Jordan commented, looking impressed. "If I had known that one little song would have gotten you this worked up…well, I would have added another verse." Blaine wanted to swipe the smug little smirk off of his face with one swift slap.

Instead, he shook his head and turned on his heel. This thing between him, Kurt, and Jordan had escalated so quickly that he hadn't really _had_ a chance to fight back before. He hadn't wanted to have to lash out, but he wasn't going to be made a fool of.

Jordan had embarrassed him in front of everybody – even though he _said_ that he hadn't been obvious about it, Blaine felt like it must have been the most obvious thing in the entire world – now it was Blaine's turn.

* * *

The next days consisted of Blaine never sitting in one place for long. In fact, Kurt hardly got the chance to even speak to him until Friday morning.

He approached the other Warbler before school, having arrived early for this exact purpose. "Blaine?"

Blaine looked up quickly and hastily covered the paper he had been looking at. "Um…yeah?"

"We never got a chance to talk again. You know, after –"

"I'm good, Kurt." His smile was just a little too wide to be natural.

The countertenor looked at him suspiciously, eyes narrowed. "Hmm," he murmured. "Can I?" He pointed to the seat next to Blaine and the Warbler nodded quickly. Kurt sat down thankfully, taking the pressure off of his one good foot. "You were mad…at me and him. Now you're saying that you've just gotten over it miraculously?"

"I wasn't mad at _you_," Blaine said quietly, looking down at his hands. "Just frustrated, I suppose."

"Well if it helps, I didn't much like the way he went about that project." Kurt understood ambition, but more than anything else he was selfish. This seemed so much different than what he'd tried to do to Rachel when he'd had a crush on Finn. "You said you were different than him, and I –"

"Well, you know, we're all human," Blaine said quickly, clearing his throat. "To fight is human, to be angry is human."

If Kurt hadn't been confused a moment ago, he certainly was now. "That's awfully big of you."

As if by divine intervention, the morning bell rang and Blaine jumped to his feet. "Do you need help carrying anything?" He didn't wait for an answer before heaving Kurt's bag onto his own shoulder.

"I'm not totally invalid," Kurt informed him, getting to his feet. "I'm used to getting around quickly, now. Anyways Blaine…thanks." The black-haired Warbler barely managed a tight smile before starting to walk at a pace Kurt could keep up with. In Kurt's reasoning, Blaine's actions were a product of him trying to hide his lingering anger. If that was the case, it meant that he cared about Kurt's opinion. That, he figured, was indubitably a good sign.

* * *

At various points throughout the day, Kurt would come up to Blaine, Wes, Jeff, or David and they would suddenly stop talking. By the time class ended and they were scheduled for Warbler practice after school, he was thoroughly sick and tired of whatever secret they were plotting.

He didn't have much time to think on it however, because Mr. Alcott quickly called the group to attention. They had gotten through quite a few solo tryouts, but there was also quite a few people left. "Time for the draw, I'd say." After Kurt had sung the first day, the two directors had decided upon a random draw each day, so that everyone would always be ready to perform.

"Actually," Blaine said, raising a hand. "I was wondering if I could go today."

"Blaine, you know that isn't how we're doing this," Mrs. Alcott told him patiently.

"I know, but I _want_ to go today. I was thinking, unless the other Warblers object…shall we put it up to a vote?" By the look on the director's faces, Blaine knew that their hands were tied. The Warblers had always been primarily student run. The directors were there for guidance and peacekeeping only. Satisfied with their silence, Blaine turned to the group. "Are there any objections to my proposal?"

No one raised their hand. Blaine knew that in the off chance that they might want to, they would still be too intimidated to speak out. "Excellent." He nodded to the crowd and Wes, David, and Jeff approached him, grinning knowingly. It was no coincidence that the three he'd chosen for backup were the ones who had been to his house last weekend, the only ones who knew the whole story about the happenings of the past few weeks.

Kurt raised an eyebrow as Blaine spoke up, and it rose even higher as the other three conspirators came from the crowd. This could not be a coincidence.

Jordan merely smiled, as if he knew Blaine's plan. In truth, he really _did_ know. Blaine had practically told him what he intended to do. He'd said he was going to fight back, and since they both knew who would win if they engaged in fisticuffs, the only option was doing exactly what Jordan had done to him. How original. Jordan had complete confidence in his ability to successfully brush off any so-called attacks.

Jeff laid a hand on Blaine's shoulder as he passed him on his way to the other end of the short line, offering a self-assured smile which was immediately returned. Blaine did not grab an instrument, to everyone's surprise. Instead, he stood with the others on the end of a straight line facing the audience.

"Well then, Blaine," said Mr. Alcott. "Whenever you're ready, I believe we're all curious as to what fostered this burst of ambition."

He nodded at the co-director and tapped the shoulder of his nearest peer: Wes. Immediately, all three began to make a synchronized tune that sounded almost like a drum beat. After a moment, Blaine's vocals picked up.

_I have a story_

_A bitter anthem for everyone to hear_

_About this kid who just don't like me_

_And that's a solid fact_

The crowd was still quiet, but no longer silent. Blaine could see confusion begin to cross their faces.

_They say he's hunting me_

_And as you see_

_I'm all swelled up with fear_

'_Cause I can't get him off my back_

_If you see Jordan, if you see Jordan_

_He makes me sick, he makes me sick_

_High school's over, high school's over_

_And you still won't quit_

Kurt could have sworn he felt his jaw hit the floor. This was a _song?_ A song that Blaine was singing completely out of spite, no less. Now he knew that this must have been why Blaine was acting the way he had been for the last days, as well as the reason behind his whispered conversations with the three who were currently accompanying him.

For the moment at least, any other emotions Kurt might have felt were numbed by sheer shock.

_You say its chivalry_

_But its jealousy that lead us to this song_

_Won't play it often_

_Just at least until you're gone_

Jordan cleared his throat and sunk down a few inches in his chair, face flushing up to the roots. He'd told himself that he was prepared for whatever petty rebuttal Blaine could throw his way, but he had _not_ been ready for this. Shame colored his cheeks and he could feel everyone in the Warbler's music hall staring at him; he could hear them whispering to their neighbors about him, pointing at the new kid who had somehow been asking for this.

He was not angry. Embarrassment outweighed any anger he might have felt so much as to render it completely obsolete. He never got embarrassed in front of crowds, and he prided himself on the prickly exterior that he'd grown over the years. But at that moment, there was nothing Jordan Aaron wanted more than to turn invisible, to magically distance himself from Blaine, the Warblers, and Kurt; he found that in that moment, he was wishing nothing had ever happened and that he hadn't met any of them.

_You'll stop at nothing but the real thing_

_And everything up 'til that's pretend_

_You tried to brainwash all my friends_

Blaine held his arm out to encompass the large group, who had so quickly and readily fallen for Jordan's charms. They'd fallen for everything, never thinking for a moment that it might be an _act_, which it was. He was an _actor_ after all, that's how he made a living.

As Blaine sang, he found that the built up tension he'd accumulated was slowly eking out of him. At the same time, a great sense of relief was filling its place. He wasn't pretending or sugar-coating anything. For once, he was singing out the frustration he felt rather than storing it inside of him while his shell smiled calmly.

He leveled his gaze at Jordan as the song went on. Wrapped up as he was in the emotion, he failed to notice the line Jordan's mouth was drawn into, or the scarlet that was marring his usually even, creamy complexion. He didn't see the way that Jordan's arms moved self-consciously around himself, as if trying desperately to hold onto his last remnants of composure. He didn't see anything but himself, and his vengeance.

_If you see Jordan, if you see Jordan_

_He makes me sick, he makes me sick_

_High school's over, high school's over_

_And you still won't quit_

Bridgette was shocked into petrified silence. Her eyes were opened wide, and her mouth gaped largely. None of her limbs moved, nor did her eyes. They were fixed on Blaine's display. She could hardly believe that this was real life; hadn't she thought only several days before that Blaine would never sink down to someone else's level? Had she been that misguided or would she wake up any moment to an alarm clock?

In the midst of their back up, David turned to Wes and gave him a small nod. They were an accepting group, usually. That is, unless one of their own was threatened. Ever since Blaine had confessed to them last weekend, the trio of Warblers had drastically switched their viewpoint on Jordan. They would defend their own now.

_Fuck you Jordan, fuck you Jordan_

_You make me sick, you make me sick_

_High school's over, high school's over_

_I don't care if you dye your hair_

_You'll always be a little red-haired b—_

_ "Blaine!_" Mr. Alcott shouted the name, springing to his feet and startling all four Warblers into instant silence. He walked up to the group, eyes blazing. "I think we've had _enough_."

Taking a cue from her husband, Bridgette stood and joined his side. "I can't believe you," she lamented. "After we let you bend the rules, this is how you repay us?"

"It was entirely inappropriate!" Oliver continued, waving his hands. "You crossed a line, Blaine. You're lucky to not be banned from the Warblers on the spot."

"_What_?" Blaine protested, casting an incredulous look at the female director. "But Mrs. Alcott, you didn't say anything about when _he_ –"

"Blaine," she warned, with a small shake of her head. "This is not the same issue. However you construed a completely _vague_ song sung in a classroom is no one's business but your own. This is different, and since I have complete confidence in your intellect I _know_ that you're fully aware of this fact."

"But this is hardly _fair_ –"

"What isn't _fair_ is how you singled someone out in such a violent, _loathsome_ way." Oliver Alcott paused. "I think it would be best if you left now." Blaine looked like he was about to offer protest once more, but a look from the Alcotts silenced him. He began to leave but turned around at the sound of Oliver's voice addressing him once more. "And Blaine…consider yourself disqualified for the Regionals solo."

Blaine merely pressed his mouth into a thinner line, biting back a retort that would only serve to get him in greater amounts of trouble. He looked at Kurt and what he saw there almost made him wish he could turn back time, to before they'd ever met Jordan and he could confess everything he felt right then and there, when things had still been so simple. Kurt was looking at Blaine as if he'd never properly seen him before. And, Blaine realized as he turned his back and left, he genuinely hadn't.

* * *

_You've Got Her In Your Pocket - The White Stripes_

_Fallin' - Alicia Keys_

_If You C Jordan - Something Corporate_

* * *

Next time: Blaine makes a rash decision that gets him into trouble, and Kurt is called in to help. The aftermath of their situation brings them face to face with a dangerous component.


	14. Chapter 14 :: Attention!

_A/N: Oh, wow. This chapter was going perfectly according to plan until it suddenly veered dramatically from it's intended path, courtesy of a couple main characters. I ended up changing the lyrics to the Something Corporate song that I mentioned last chapter. The original lyrics fit in perfectly with how I'd intended this story to go, not so well with how things turned out. But the amended lyrics are better, and hopefully it isn't too sacrilegious to change them. I've learned that it's better to not argue with characters and ultimately let them do what they want to, or else their muses will get finicky and writing comes to a crashing halt, and hopefully none of us want that :) And in case you're wondering why I only have a "Next time" section half the time, it's because I don't put it up unless I'm positive all those things really will happen in the next chapter - which is why this chapter unfortunately doesn't have a teaser._

_Those excuses made, I'm still terribly fond of the direction this went. I hope you guys enjoy it, too!_

* * *

FOURTEEN:

Kurt was glad that he didn't have to drive himself home after the fiasco in the Warbler's music hall. He still hadn't reached the level of anger, though he had no doubt that would come later. He'd recently transitioned from shock to disbelief, and about two hours into the bus ride he was settled safely in the middle of incredulity. It was difficult, if not impossible, to believe that the person who had just stormed out of the Warbler hall was actually Blaine Anderson.

The only logical conclusion he could come to was that this was some ridiculous contest…_for him_. As much as Kurt was amused by the fact he wasn't the one committing horribly underhanded and lowly feats to attract attention from the object of his affections, he was tired of people he cared about pitting themselves against each other. He resolved then and there that there was nothing for it but to extract his own person from the matter as completely as he could, at least until things were resolved within this unbelievable battle of man-will.

After his series of bus transfers, Kurt was dropped off down the street from his still-new home, which he was able to reach in less than five minutes, even on crutches. He crutched into the kitchen where Finn sat eating a grilled cheese at the table. He looked up in mid-bite and nodded as Kurt entered, not noticing the stoic set of his face.

It was only after Kurt had slammed the cupboard door upon retrieving a mug that Finn looked up at him again. Kurt harshly filled the mug with water – from the _tap_, Finn noted with alarm – and took the lazy man's way out by sticking the water-filled mug in the microwave for two and a half minutes rather than using a teapot to boil it.

"Uh…hi?" Finn's expression was confused, not that Kurt could see it. His back was turned to his step-brother and he was roughly rummaging through a selection of tea bags before picking one out.

"Hello."

His response was short, and Finn raised his eyebrows. "Are you –?"

"No." The microwave beeped and Kurt took out the cup, quickly sticking the tea bag in.

"Well, do you want to –?"

"No." Kurt put his bag over his shoulder once again, crossing it over his chest so it was more secure than it had been. He held the mug in his right hand, sticking both crutches under his left armpit so he could carry everything at one time. He moved forward in such a manner, progress even slower than it had been before.

"Do you need –?"

"No." He responded in the same manner as he had been, approaching the stairs that led up to the bedrooms.

"Kurt, _how_ are you going to get up the stairs like that?" The countertenor pursued the steps without answering, using his right leg and doubled crutches to alternatively set his weight upon. In a miraculous feat, he managed to raise himself one step, not spilling anything during his ascent. Finn rolled his eyes, and walked back to the kitchen. "Just don't fall and break your other leg," he shouted back to Kurt, who was no doubt on the _third_ stair by this time. "I would hate it if we had to install one of those moving chairs on the wall for you."

"_No._" The voice echoed from the hall, as if Kurt needed to further prove his point. Shaking his head, Finn sat back down at the table and let his step-brother go about his business.

* * *

Kurt sequestered himself in his room for the rest of the day, only emerging from his cave to go to the bathroom. The majority of his time was spent watching those sickeningly addicting YouTube videos of adorable kittens, and by the time night fell Kurt was feeling significantly more at peace with the world.

When Carole knocked on his door at approximately ten, Kurt was so much recovered from his mood – meaning he'd pushed reality so far from the front of his mind – that he sounded quite merry when he called her in.

"Someone on the phone for you, Kurt," she said, walking up to him and handing him the phone.

_Who?_ He mouthed. He was of half a mind that it was Blaine…and another half of a mind that it could be Jordan. At the same time, he didn't know why either of them would call him late on a Friday night.

Carole shrugged on her way out the door, shutting it quietly behind her. "Hello?" Kurt asked into the receiver.

"_Kurt?"_

"Yes, who is this?"

"_It's Benjamin Kramer, from Dalton."_

The boy was in Kurt's pre-calculus class, but he wasn't in the Warblers. Kurt was sure he'd never spoken to him outside of that one class in his entire time at the private school. "Oh, yes. Can I…help you with something?" If this was some sort of prank there would be hell to pay come Monday.

"_You know my parents are out of town this weekend, so I'm throwing a party here tonight? I never heard if you were coming or not, so I figured you were at home."_

"It's a bit hard to party with your leg in a cast," Kurt pointed out, not that he would have attended anyway.

"_Oh, right! I don't think I ever told you how sorry I was that that happened – glad you're okay though."_

"Thank you…" He trailed off awkwardly and silence settled on the line for a few moments. Kurt could hear the din on the other side of the line, and it sounded like Ben had to shout to be heard. Amongst the other noises, Kurt heard a voice pick up in a rather frayed, uneven tune.

_Attention! Attention!_

_May I have all your eyes and ears to the front of the room_

_If only, if only for one second_

"Ben," Kurt said slowly. "What is that?"

_"Well, that's actually why I'm calling_," Ben shouted, voice crackling with static. _"Blaine came over and uh…well…he got a little too friendly with his shot glass if you know what I mean."_

"I know what you mean," Kurt replied in a monotone.

_ "At first he was really depressed. I thought loosening up a little would be good for him because he seemed upset about something, but he kind of got out of hand."_

"Out of hand how?"

_ "Dude, I can't get him to do anything. He won't stop shouting, he won't stop _singing_, and he refuses to get in a cab. I don't know what to do, Kurt. I don't want the cops to come but he isn't being very inconspicuous."_

Kurt rubbed his temple and looked up at his ceiling. "What…what do you want me to do?"

_"He listens to you, Kurt,"_ Ben replied. _"I didn't know who else to call. I didn't want to call his house and get him in trouble with his parents."_

"Ben, I'm in Lima," Kurt protested. "That's two hours away; I won't be there until midnight."

_"Drive fast?"_ Ben suggested._ "C'mon Kurt, he's not too well off. He needs to leave. You're…you're his friend."_

Kurt was silent for a moment. "What's your address?"

* * *

Not five minutes later, Kurt was on the first floor of his house. "Carole?" He called into the living room, from which he heard a drama playing. "Do you know where Finn is?"

"The New Directions are doing something tonight, sweetie," she responded. For a brief moment Kurt felt betrayed. They were doing something without him? Then he remembered, he wasn't one of them anymore. He was at Dalton, and he needed to go get Blaine. "He left an hour or so ago. Why?"

"Oh just wondering," Kurt said lightly, hiding his disappointment. Finn would have driven him, Kurt knew that. He wouldn't be able to ask Carole's help, or his father, who was probably watching the movie with her.

"Who was that on the phone?"

"Just…someone from Dalton. He needed some help with a math problem." Right, like normal teenagers stayed in Friday nights to do math homework. Luckily she didn't respond. Kurt crossed through the kitchen and grabbed the pad of paper on which the grocery list was written. He tore out a sheet and scribbled down a note.

_Mercedes picked me up after their N.D. get together to go to her house for the night._

_Sorry I couldn't say goodbye!_

_-Kurt_

He didn't doubt he would get in trouble for that, if they even believed it. If Carole or his father called the Jones' household and found out that Kurt had never been there, he'd be even worse off. Trying to make his loud casted walk quieter, Kurt grabbed a set of his keys, which were hanging on the key rack by the kitchen door. Carole would have seen him if he left out the front, but if he exited this way and crept around the side of the house, she would never know that he'd gone.

It seemed like many small things were adding up in his favor, with the exception of Finn's absence. Kurt's car had been parked in the street since no one had been driving it. They'd taken everything out of it so there would be nothing for anyone to steal. With such an arrangement, they could park the others in the garage and leave the valuables inside. It also served his purpose tonight. A car starting in the garage would be unmistakable, but a car sound on the street could be anyone driving past.

Kurt was not sure if driving with a cast was illegal, but he had exhausted his options. It was on his left leg, another lucky turn of fate. He only needed mobility in his right foot to drive, the other was just an inconvenience. He turned the keys in the ignition, turned on his headlights, and put his foot to the gas.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Kurt pulled into the outskirts of Westerville, to the area Ben had directed him to. About a block away from his destination, Kurt knew he was going in the right direction. If Ben thought Blaine was the reason the police were going to shut down that party, he was sorely mistaken. He was doing well enough on his own, without Blaine's help.

Already feeling a headache coming on, Kurt parked across the street and hopped out of the driver's seat, pulling his crutches out from where they had been resting in back. As he hobbled toward the front door, he seriously lamented the fact that he was handicapped at a time like this.

"What are you, a _bouncer_?" He snapped at the muscular teen that stood at the front door. He didn't get a response. "Ben called me, I need to see him."

"In the back," he answered.

Kurt glared at him levelly before waving a crutch in his face. "Could you assist the less fortunate? Open the door at least, Prince Adam. _Thank you._" He walked to the frame before looking one last time at the beastlike teenager. "Honestly, your mother would be ashamed."

Feeling exasperation setting in, Kurt tried to squeeze through the throngs of people. He periodically asked to be directed to Ben, and he was constantly pointed farther into the bowels of the large house. "The den," a blonde woman shouted at him, dark amber liquid sloshing in her red cup.

By the time he reached what could only be the den, Kurt was cursing rich Dalton families and their ridiculously large houses. It made no sense – did they _need_ that much space? He pushed his way into the considerably less crowded den only to be assaulted by a loud voice.

_This table has taken a turn for the worse_

_Rock-bottom and over the edge_

_Well it's not like it hurt that much anyways_

_Upside down and inside out_

_When I leave here I'm going alone_

_Well it's not like, it's not like it hurts much anyway_

"Oh _God_." Kurt's face was aghast as he stared at Blaine. There was no microphone obviously, but he might as well have had one considering how loud his voice was. His hair was un-gelled and on the loose, curls bobbing as he weaved his head around.

There were others in the room, red cups in hand, but they were keeping a small empty circle around the loose Warbler. That was a wise idea, Kurt soon found, as Blaine seemed fond of flailing his limbs in a fashion that could be dangerous to those around him.

_Attention! Attention!_

_May I have all your eyes and ears to the front of the room_

_If only, if only for one second_

_Will you hear what I have to say?_

_Oh, did I mention when I see you it stings like hell?_

_To the fact that we could have something that'll never happen_

_Will you hear what I have to?_

"_Kurt!_" A relieved voice shouted his name and Kurt saw Ben – a boy as tall as Finn, with shockingly blonde hair – emerge from the crowd and cross the room toward him. "Thank God. I've been keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't…hurt himself or something. I wanted to call you again but I didn't have your cellphone number. This has gotten so out of hand." He looked around worriedly.

"Well, I'm here now," Kurt said, scowling at a stumbling girl who had bumped into his side and almost set him off-balance. "I'll just take him and leave. Was that – is this the song he was singing when we talked on the phone?"

"He's been on repeat for more than two hours," Ben lamented. Kurt shook his head and looked back toward Blaine, who was still oblivious to his presence.

_This balance has weighed out our heart's desire_

_I'm trying to make it alone_

_Well it's not like it, not like it hurts much anyway_

_Upside down and inside out_

_When I leave here I'm going alone_

_But I'm dying, I'm dying to touch_

_Well it's not like it, not like it hurts much anyway_

"This is pathetic," Kurt said, holding a hand to his temple.

"I'm glad you agree," Ben muttered, nodding toward him. "Can you just –?"

In response, Kurt crutched over to Blaine. A few feet from the flailing Warbler, he reached out a crutch and tapped him with it, causing Blaine to look up at him, startled. "Kurt!" he shouted. "What're you doing here? I – _ow_." He'd lurched toward Kurt and bumped his leg on the side of a coffee table, causing him to careen several feet to the side.

"We're leaving, Blaine," Kurt said patiently, realizing that there was no use getting mad. He'd known immediately why Blaine would have done this. He had to have been trying to drown something out, to numb a memory. The only memory he had worth numbing was the one to do with the song he'd sang that very day. In some little part, he must have regretted it. Better late than never, Kurt figured.

"Butchu jus' got here!" Blaine shouted, leaning toward Kurt and slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"Oh God," Kurt complained, buckling from the pressure on his one good leg. "You smell like the inside of a bar."

"What does that smell like?" Blaine asked, face turning contemplative. "Metal, probably…unless it's a wooden bar! Or plastic…what's the bar on? That would probably make it smell different, you know."

"Ben, please?" Kurt forced the words out and Ben rushed to his side, taking the arm off of Kurt's shoulders and placing himself there for Blaine to lean on.

"Just to the car," Ben clarified, following Kurt as he walked out of the den and into the main part of the house.

"You don't have to worry about me wanting you to come farther than that, believe me," Kurt muttered, still fighting the crowd. "This is enough of a pain without me having to look after more than one person."

"One boy not enough for you, cupcake?" A big body planted itself in Kurt's path.

"_Excuse_ me," he said, trying to move around it. The other person just moved with him and blocked his path once more. Kurt glared up at him with narrowed eyes; his patience was wearing thin. "_What_?"

"I _said_, isn't one boy enough for you, homo?"

Kurt set his face and made sure it was devoid of emotion. He didn't know who the boy was, but he didn't recognize him from Dalton, which was a blessing. He probably went to the public high school in Westerville, which meant that Kurt would never have to see him again after this. "Let me by, please. I just want to help my friend out of here before he hurts himself."

"Aw, the little _fag_ wants to help his little _fag_ friend," the bully crooned. "Where do you get off talking back to me, Armani?" Before Kurt could formulate a protest, the bully's palm pushed against his chest and Kurt was falling back, crashing to the ground. He felt the side of his head connect with the corner of something hard, and he rolled to the floor, head ringing and canceling out all other sound.

He wasn't sure if he blacked out or not, but Kurt opened his eyes just in time to see Blaine fly at the hefty teen that had pushed Kurt to the floor, fists flying. Kurt wanted to protest, to do _something,_ but he couldn't move his limbs. He saw Blaine's fists attacking the other, some righteous fury fueling his actions. Everything seemed to be progressing in slow-motion until Ben launched himself toward the fighting pair. Suddenly in real time, the strong teen maneuvered between the two, keeping them away from each other.

"What the fuck is _wrong_ with you, O'Malley?" Ben shouted at him, red in the face. O'Malley did not retort, he merely glared at the taller boy. "_Get. Out._ This party is over for you, and think twice before ever stepping foot in my house again or _I'll_ be the one who will personally kick your ass." The hefty teen spared a last scathing glance at Kurt, lying stunned on the ground, before marching out of the house in a fury, shoving people out of his way as he went.

Ben didn't spare him another glance before rushing to Kurt's side. "Shit, shit, shit, _shit," _he said, grabbing Kurt's arm and hoisting him to his feet. "Right after your accident too – oh fuck, you're bleeding." Kurt reached up to his forehead where he felt a trickle of blood coming from below his temple.

"It's okay," he stuttered. Indeed, his lightheadedness was fading quickly and he was finding himself more and more eager to just _leave_. "I need to go. Blaine." Kurt picked up his crutches from where they'd fallen to the ground and began a bee-line to the door, hoping Blaine was following.

"Kurt, you shouldn't drive," Ben's protest was weak and Kurt ignored it easily. He looked back when he reached the door to see that Blaine was walking on his own right behind him, following him with wide eyes. He wasn't too far gone to have not known exactly what happened, then.

The countertenor got into the driver's seat, returning his crutches to the backseat. He started the car quickly and waited silently, hands on the wheel, as Blaine stumbled to the passenger's side door and hoisted himself in. "Buckle your seatbelt," he said shortly as he put the car in gear and pulled down the road.

"Kurt…"

"Just buckle your seatbelt, Blaine."

They drove in silence for a few minutes, and Blaine lifted his head from where it rested in the side of the car when Kurt passed the turn off to the freeway. "Where…where are we going?"

"Not to _my_ house," Kurt replied, as if the proposal was crazy – which it was. "I'm taking you home."

"_Don't_," Blaine said the words quickly, reaching out and grabbing Kurt's arm.

"_Hey_, I'm driving! What –"

"Please don't," Blaine pleaded. Kurt risked a startled glance at him, quickly taking in his eyes which were no longer glazed over, but alert and panicked. "Please, let's go to your house. Let's go to a hotel, I'll pay."

"Blaine, you're being ridiculous," Kurt said, shaking off his hand and looking back at the road. This was his first time driving since the accident and he wanted to be extra-alert. He was nonetheless a bit shaken by Blaine's response to his simple statement. "I don't want to drive two hours with a bleeding wound on the side of my head. I just want to sit down for a second and wash the blood out of my hair, for goodness sake. I probably look like I've been ran over by something."

"No, no, no, _noooooo_," Blaine moaned, leaning his face back up against the cool window. He began to mumble incoherently and Kurt rolled his eyes, telling himself that the whole thing had been some beer-induced reaction.

Blaine's former description of where he lived was all Kurt had to go on for direction, but the complex of large houses in which his was situated was blessedly easy to navigate, and Kurt had reached the one that was supposedly Blaine's house in fifteen minutes.

Calling upon his extra reserves of patience, Kurt got out of his car and crutched to Blaine's door, opening it and reaching across the Warbler to unbuckle him – Blaine was sitting with his arms crossed steadfastly across his chest. "I'm not moving."

Kurt wanted to bang his head against something hard…then again, it _was_ already bleeding; he could feel the dried blood on his face. Perhaps when they got into the Anderson house he could finally clean up. "_Get out_. Do I have to bribe you with puppy treats or something? Get out of the car Blaine; you're acting like a spoiled little child having a temper tantrum."

Thoroughly rebuked, though still pouting, Blaine left the safety of the car. Kurt shut the door and locked it quickly, should Blaine change his mind. "Come on," he said instead, nudging him up the walkway. "This is your house, right?"

"…Unfortunately." Blaine tripped on exactly three things on the way to the door: an uneven stepping stone, the first step on the stairs, and the leg of a delicate, wrought iron porch chair.

"Maybe they won't be able to tell you were drinking," Kurt said dryly as Blaine picked himself up for the third time.

"My foot," the black-haired Warbler whined, limping.

"Now we're even."

"We can still turn around."

"Blaine," Kurt said, exasperated. He turned to the door and knocked. "I think that this has gone a little too far."

It was a moment before the door opened. A petite woman stood there, shock written across her face in an instant. Kurt hadn't considered how they must have looked from a third-party point of view. On second thought, cleaning the blood off of his face prior to knocking on the door would have been a good idea.

"Mommy," Blaine whispered in a tone so pathetically child-like that Kurt couldn't help but feel his heart ache.

"_Blaine_," she whispered, looking past Kurt. "Oh, what have you –" She stopped talking and turned to look at Kurt slowly, as if only just registering him.

"I'm…Kurt Hummel," he introduced himself, not sure if he should hold out his hand.

"What is he doing here?" Blaine's mother hissed, looking at her son. Kurt turned to Blaine, whose eyes had gone wide. "Blaine, why did you bring him here?"

"I said we shouldn't come," Blaine insisted, shaking his head. "I told him –"

"Just be quiet. Shh, quiet." Her tone was sharp and demanding, and she grabbed Blaine's arm and tugged him inside, waving Kurt in behind them.

He attempted to walk with delicacy, but with both crutches and a leg in a cast, it was a remarkably difficult feat that he couldn't quite accomplish – especially considering the sleek hardwood floors. Blaine's mother walked quickly to the twisting staircase. "Just go," she whispered. "Quickly."

"Awa?" A man's voice came from the next room. The words slurred together slightly, though Kurt attributed this to the distance they had to travel to reach across rooms. "Who is it? It wasn't a solicitor, was it? Goddamn it, at past midnight too. I should make a call to their employer." The next moment, a large man appeared in the doorway to the next room. His dark hair was graying at the sides, as if he was in a Touch of Gray television ad. His distinctive features moved immediately into a frown when he saw the three of them standing huddled close together. "What's going on here?"

Blaine's mother had gone silent, and she was looking at the ground with her brow furrowed. "I – I was just…uh," Kurt couldn't tear his eyes from the intimidating figure that had to have been Blaine's father.

"Who are you?" The words were considerably sharper than the first had been, and Cayden lurched toward Kurt, making him flinch back involuntarily. "Why are you here? Wait a minute…"

His eyes traveled to Blaine, who was staring at his father with wide eyes. Kurt tried to speak up again. "M-my name's Kurt Hummel. I'm just –"

"You're one of them aren't you?" The man's voice was harsh, and his face was beginning to turn red. "You're one of those…_gays_ at that school aren't you?" Kurt's mouth opened and closed but only silence met the air. His eyes traveled down to the floor and only belatedly did he see the bottle that was clutched in the man's hand. Kurt's face went pale. "One of those ones that _tainted_ my son and made him like _you_."

Kurt nervously tightened his grip on the handles on his crutches, taking a step back with his good foot. He jumped when he felt Blaine grab his arm and literally begin to drag him up the stairs – _quickly . _"Hurry, hurry," Blaine urged. Kurt's heart was beginning to pound in his chest, hammering on his rib cage in a way that had to have been harmful to human anatomy.

"Don't walk away from me." The sound was gravelly and intense, rising up from a place of passion and hate. Kurt felt a hand like a vice grip affix to his shoulder and his arm was torn from Blaine's grasp. He felt himself flying backward, his casted foot preventing him from making any sort of recovery. He hit the wall hard and crumpled to the ground, sliding down several steps before he came to a stop.

He was struggling to his feet – for this time he was still fully conscious – when he saw Cayden go straight to Blaine and hit him squarely across the face, hard enough to send his son ricocheting back. He'd dropped the bottle, which rolled down the steps and clattered onto the hard wood at the bottom. Blaine had fallen, and from where he lay on the floor, he lifted his eyes to meet Kurt's horrified gaze. Blaine's expression looked almost _ashamed_.

"Get up, you useless fuck," Blaine's father growled again, and Kurt could feel tears springing to his eyes at the mere emotion of the situation. His gaze was torn apart from his friend's as Cayden grabbed fistfuls of Blaine's clothing and pulled him to his feet once more. "It isn't enough that my son has to be a queer, but you bring your boyfriend home to _my_ house."

"I – I," Blaine stuttered. From where he was on the stairs, Kurt could see him shaking.

"You can't even _talk_ like a man." The raging continued. This time, Blaine's father grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and threw him against a wall so hard that a picture rattled and fell from its hook.

To say that Kurt had zero idea what to do would be an understatement. He looked fleetingly down the stairs for Blaine's mother but she was sitting in a huddled ball against the wall, head in hands. Hardly believing she could sit and watch this happen, he stood up the rest of the way.

_Courage_, Blaine had always said. Why had he said that? Was it because he felt that he had none himself? Well, Kurt planned on utilizing his advice. "_Hey_!" His shout rang loudly through the house, grabbing even Cayden's notice. He was a bit cowed when the full-grown man swung around and met his gaze with a fury sharp enough to cut diamond, but Kurt didn't back down.

He returned the eye-contact evenly. "He's your _son_."

"You…do you go to that school, too? Are you one of those private school gays who made my boy one of you?"

"Being gay isn't a _sickness_," Kurt spat, glaring at the older man. "Who would choose to be picked on every day of their life? Who would choose to be gay if they knew there were ignorant assholes like you who were just going to beat them up for it?"

"You can't talk back to me," Cayden hissed, pointing a finger at Kurt, who had to try his hardest not to flinch away.

"Kurt…" Blaine's quiet whisper didn't go unnoticed by his father. The man stilled when he heard it, eyes narrowing. Kurt turned his gaze from Cayden to Blaine. The latter Anderson was looking at him with wide eyes, almost appearing to be concerned for _Kurt_ when he was the one whose father was hitting him.

Cayden turned to face his son slowly. "You are not my son," he whispered darkly. He grabbed Blaine's shirt front with his left hand, the right one fisting and circling around to connect squarely with the side of Blaine's face. A trickle of blood poured from his nostril and from a cut that appeared on the corner of his mouth. The hand swung through and circled back to grab the other side of his shirt before Blaine's father flung his son sideways, down the stairs.

Kurt planted himself securely against the wall so that he wouldn't fall when Blaine's rolling figure connected with him. His friend's body hit his legs and stopped rolling downwards, which had been Kurt's intention. "Oh God," Kurt said in shaky and panicked whisper, grappling around Blaine's limbs as he tried to move around his obnoxiously cumbersome crutches and pull his friend up at the same time.

"I don't want you touching him." That was from Blaine's father. "I don't want to ever see him here again." Suddenly, Blaine was on his feet. His over-bright eyes made contact with Kurt's once before he grabbed his hand and forcefully shoved him up the stairs, toward and past his father.

Cayden reached out toward them again, but it appeared that Blaine had been expecting that. He swatted his father's hand away from Kurt roughly before physically pushing the man with both hands. "_Don't ever touch him again_," Blaine shouted back. It was the first hint of the will to fight back that Kurt had seen over the course of the entire conflict.

In the same hurried manner, Blaine pushed Kurt forward again. He grabbed both crutches, and with remarkable steadiness for someone as drunk as he was, practically pulled Kurt down the long hallway. His father seemed stunned for a moment but it wasn't long before Kurt heard footsteps following them. This only served to make him go faster. The pain and awkwardness of running directly in his casted foot was prominent, but Kurt pushed through it.

About three-quarters down the long hall, Blaine pushed Kurt to the right, into a large room. He quickly followed him inside and shut the door. Kurt stayed facing away from the door but he heard locks turning. When he looked back, his eyes flicked to the three different types of padlocks on the door. Blaine was staring at it, as if waiting for something. On cue, a fist banged on the outside of the door and Kurt could hear a muffled voice yelling outside.

Shaken to his core, he turned back to the larger part of Blaine's room. To the right he saw a private bathroom – a blessing more than he could have hoped for. They wouldn't have to go outside for anything. Kurt stumbled to the room, not looking back at Blaine as he limped in and shut the door behind him.

He stumbled to the sink and placed his hands on the broad expanse of smooth granite. His chest heaved as if he were about to vomit, but nothing came from his mouth. He could feel tears on his cheeks, and the sobs were beginning to shake his entire frame. Kurt looked up at himself in the mirror and hardly recognized his own reflection.

He'd forgotten about the bully at the party that had pushed him into the corner of the coffee table, which now seemed like cruel foreshadowing, but the wound served to remind him. A portion of the left side of his face was covered in both dried and fresh blood. The fray in the hallway might have made the wound bleed anew, Kurt wasn't sure. His eyes were bloodshot from tiredness as well as the tears that were coursing down his cheeks, making his blue eyes stand out alarmingly.

Carefully, he regained his composure and turned on the faucet. He cleaned the blood off of his face, splashing some cold water onto the rest of his face after he was done. Making sure he was thoroughly done crying, Kurt opened the door to leave the bathroom.

He exited into a silent room: the pounding had stopped. Blaine hadn't turned on the overhead lights but he had a bedside lamp on. He was sitting cross-legged on his bedcovers, staring at the wall opposite him. Kurt approached him quietly and sat by his side, taking off his one shoe before situating himself on the large bed.

"So…now you know," Blaine said simply.

"That's why you had bruises," Kurt observed quietly. "I thought, maybe…but I didn't know. You said it was an accident."

"It is accident," Blaine answered, equally quiet. "He doesn't know what he's doing when he's been…drinking." He said the last word slowly, as if coming to the horrid realization that he had been doing the same thing. Blaine finally turned around to look at Kurt, his dry eyes taking in Kurt's bloodshot ones. "You're still bleeding," he said, as if he'd forgotten about the blood pouring from his own lip. "Hang on."

He walked to the bathroom and returned cleaned up, gauze and tape in hand. Silently, he folded up a bit of gauze and wiped the dripping blood away from Kurt's temple. The countertenor didn't say anything, but his eyes never left Blaine's face as the other boy worked on him. He wrapped up the bloody gauze and threw it away, taking out another and placing it on the cut. "Hold it for a second." Kurt's hand reached up to do as he said, brushing Blaine's in the process. The other boy pulled pieces of tape from the roll, and carefully affixed the gauze to Kurt's wound.

"Thank you," Kurt said quietly.

Blaine cleared his throat and looked away. "I should…drink some water or something."

"Wait," Kurt protested. His gaze hadn't left Blaine's face, and he now reached out to take his hand. "How long…has this…?"

Blaine didn't make eye-contact, but he squeezed the hand that was offered. "Since I came out…we moved here because kids in my old town found out. They taunted me _and_ my family. He couldn't take it, I guess. When we got here he told me not to tell anyone…but people at Dalton weren't the same. I was safe, but he still hates it."

Kurt didn't know what to say. He didn't know that these sort of things _happened_. For the first time, he was able to fully appreciate his own father. Silently, he simply reached out and took Blaine into his arms.

Blaine leaned into him as if holding Kurt tighter was the only thing that could save him. His hunched frame sat comfortably within the circle of Kurt's arm, his face buried into his shoulder. He wasn't crying but he hadn't stopped shaking since they'd reached the safety of his room. In Kurt's arms, his trembling finally began to cease.

Kurt made soothing noises and rubbed circles on Blaine's back comfortingly. After continuing on in such a manner for quite some time they pulled back simultaneously. Kurt was still looking at Blaine worriedly, and Blaine was still looking pathetically like a puppy that had been kicked aside. "Shh," Kurt soothed, voice quiet. His hand moved from Blaine's back to stroke the side of his face lightly. On his other cheek, Kurt could see red starting to fade into a black bruise already.

"You're hurt too," Kurt whispered. His fingers gently turned Blaine's head so he could see the effected side. He turned his head willingly but his eyes followed Kurt the entire time. They watched him as he drew closer, and closed briefly when he felt Kurt's lips gently touch the tender, bruised side of his face.

He let his lips linger there for a moment before he drew back, turning his head to look away from Blaine and to the floor of his room. Kurt froze when he felt a hand slide over his. "It already feels better," Blaine whispered. Kurt looked up at him and Blaine attempted a smile in return. "Magic."

In the next moment, Kurt had wrapped Blaine in his arms again, seemingly unable to let him go for any period of time. He held him close and he felt Blaine's arms wrap around him in turn. "I don't want anything to happen to you," Kurt said quickly, the words pouring out of him before he had a chance to censor them. "God, after that song I was so…I don't know what I was, but I wasn't happy. I was ready to leave everything, to not bother again but then Ben called me. I didn't know – I didn't know."

"Shh," Blaine whispered, pressing a kiss to Kurt's shoulder whether he could feel it or not. "I'm so sorry – I can't believe…he pushed you. I'll never forgive him for touching you. He doesn't even know you. He doesn't know how funny you are, how sensitive, what happened to you at McKinley. And then when you…I mean, you _said_ something, you spoke up in a way I never can –"

"I couldn't stand to see him hit you," Kurt continued, arms still tightly woven around the other boy. "I couldn't stand the thought of you on the floor or getting pushed down the stairs. I couldn't take the thought of anyone ever doing any harm to you." His fists bunched in the back of Blaine's shirt, grabbing and pulling at the fabric as if trying to hold on to something that was slipping through his fingers. "I don't want you to get hurt." His face turned inward to Blaine's neck, where he pressed his lips against the unmarred flesh there. "I don't want anyone to touch you." His head lifted slightly and he pressed his lips assuredly on the corner of Blaine's smooth jawline. "I don't want anything bad to happen to you, _ever_." His lips met the corner of Blaine's mouth softly.

Kurt drew back only a fraction of an inch, enough to gauge Blaine's reaction. His hands rose simultaneously and his thumbs traced over Blaine's strong cheekbones and down the sides of his face as if trying to memorize every contour. Kurt leaned forward again and this time Blaine met him halfway. Their lips met with a clinging, desperate force. It was all fumbling and hot breath and open mouths.

Blaine's hands ran over Kurt's shoulders and came to rest on the front of his chest while Kurt's wound around Blaine and pulled them tighter. The moments when they simply broke off and held each other blended seamlessly with the moments they were wrapped up in a series of heated kisses. Kurt would cradle the back of Blaine's head, dispensing sweet, lingering kisses around the place where Blaine's lip had been mildly injured. Blaine's hands made their way under the hem of Kurt's shirt and travelled the planes of his marble smooth chest.

Kurt would grab onto the front of Blaine's shirt and attempt to pull them closer together, as if the barrier of skin and cloth was still too far of a distance to live with in that moment. Blaine would pull back and gently travel the line of Kurt's collarbone with his lips, or trace the curve of his lips with his own.

Neither of them knew how much time had passed in this fashion, but Kurt gathered that it was probably quite a while. Afterward, they both lay on the bed under Blaine's covers, facing each other with their hands clasped between them. "You're perfect," Blaine whispered, hand raising to lightly touch the gauze that was still taped to Kurt's head.

"You're still a little drunk," Kurt responded, smiling in spite of himself. "Which means that I took advantage of you. You probably won't even remember this in the morning."

"I wouldn't ever forget," Blaine promised. "Anything." He didn't have to say exactly what he meant for Kurt to understand. "Kurt." The countertenor looked into Blaine's amber eyes, which suddenly appeared apprehensive. "Can…can you stay here tonight? I don't – I mean, I don't want to be alone."

"The night's almost over," he answered, in an attempt to sound lighthearted. That having failed, he opted for a more serious route. "I would never leave you alone." Blaine smiled and blinked heavily a few times, finally closing his eyes. Kurt scooted closer, until their foreheads were almost touching.

Not opening his eyes but aided by their new proximity, Blaine extended his head toward Kurt until their lips met with exceeding softness. "G'night, Kurt."

"…Night, Blaine." But Kurt did not close his eyes, though he easily could have gone to sleep. He listened as Blaine's breathing transitioned into the deep even sounds of sleep, his chest rising and falling in even measures. He looked at his friend's – friend's? – sleeping feature with fondness, lips curving into a smile in spite of everything that had happened that night.

His hand rose to brush Blaine's wild curls away from his forehead and he had trouble refraining from pressing a kiss to his luminescent cheek. Instead, he did the second best thing in terms of venting emotion: quietly, Kurt Hummel began to sing.

_Close your eyes, and I will be swimming_

_Lullabies fill your room, and I will be singing_

_Singing to only you_

_Don't forget: I'll hold your head_

_Watch the night sky fading red_

Blaine didn't stir, much to Kurt's relief. He liked sleeping Blaine, the unassuming look that came over him when he was in his most vulnerable state.

_But as you sleep, and no one is listening_

_I will lift you off your feet_

_I'll keep you from sinking_

_Don't you wake up yet_

The Anderson household had been quiet for quite a while, not that Blaine or Kurt had been listening for anything. Kurt could go back to his car and drive back to Lima while Blaine was still asleep, he knew that. But he couldn't do it.

_In the car, the radio keeps me searching for your star_

_A constellation of frustration driving hard_

_Singing my thoughts back to me_

_And watching heartache on TV_

His hand moved fondly down the plain of Blaine's cheek, finally coming back to his hand, which Kurt grabbed once more. He settled his head into the nook Blaine's neck and shoulder made.

_But as you sleep and no one is listening_

_I will lift you off your feet_

_I'll keep you from sinking_

_Don't you wake up yet_

He settled into Blaine's side, perfectly comfortable. Feeling safe in their own world despite the real danger that literally lived outside, Kurt closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

* * *

_Attention! - The Academy Is..._

_As You Sleep - Something Corporate_


	15. Chapter 15 :: Love Will Find A Way

_A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the horridly long wait for this chapter! I'd meant to go for much longer than this - what we have here is about half of what I'd intended in Chapter 15. But it was running on for a really long time, I didn't want to cut anything, and I really wanted to give you all another update :) _

_I'd never actually heard the song featured in this chapter until...well, right before the actual song scene here. I was looking up the lyrics for another song (which I'm dead set on still integrating in later) by the same title. I'd intended on using that song here, but I found this one and the lyrics seemed so perfect that I had to look up the video. I fell in love with it in a really short amount of time, and thus decided that I needed to have it. It turned out to be more fitting anyways, and the other song will crop up somewhere later :D_

_So I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

FIFTEEN:

When Kurt woke up, the entire left side of his face was throbbing horribly. "Oh my God," he moaned pitifully, wincing as the muscles of his face pulled at the tender area during the action of opening his eyes. For a moment he wondered why he was in pain, but memories of the day past soon filled his head. Kurt became cognizant of the warmth at his back and he realized slowly that it must be Blaine.

He turned over, still under the sheets, to see that Blaine was already awake and propped up into a sitting position. Black-rimmed reading glasses were perched on his nose and he was propping a book on his chest, though his eyes were trained on Kurt and an amused smile played on his lips. "Sleeping Beauty awakens," Blaine murmured quietly, looking back to the book, which Kurt identified as Gaston Leroux's most famous work. How ironic, Kurt thought dryly.

The title was printed as _Le Fantôme de l'Opéra, _leading Kurt to believe that the entire thing was probably in French.

"You…take Italian," Kurt said, feeling stupid as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Yup," Blaine answered simply, turning the page and pushing the glasses a bit farther up the bridge of his nose.

"So now you're multilingual, to add to the too-long list of amazing things you can do?" Kurt asked, smiling at him sweetly and wiggling over to perch his chin on Blaine's chest, thoroughly impeding his view of the novel. "And you don't even look a little bit hung over…how is that fair?"

"It's a Christmas miracle," Blaine said sarcastically, marking his book with a marker carefully and setting it on his bedside table. "Especially since I was up all night with you kicking me with your cast."

"Whoops," Kurt said innocently, grin turning into another grimace as the pulling of his face muscles once again stretched at where he'd hit his head the night before.

"Pain-killer," Blaine informed him. Kurt leaned back to let Blaine escape to the medicine cabinet, surprise coursing through him when the black-haired Warbler first leaned over and placed a quick kiss against his forehead.

Kurt blinked at him as he crossed the room and ducked briefly into the bathroom, emerging with a bottle of ibuprofen. It was only as he made his way back that Kurt saw the dark bruises blossoming up on Blaine's own left cheek, and over his eye. "Blaine," Kurt whispered his name, afraid to raise his voice.

Self-consciously, Blaine laid a hand to his cheek. "He's usually careful not to touch my face," he said, voice struggling for an even tone.

From the other side of the room, he took a bottle of water from a large flat. "I just keep a lot of things I need in my room," he told Kurt by way of explanation. "Just in case."

"Usually doesn't…how can you talk about it so casually?" The very mention of the event pained Kurt to even _think_ about let alone talk about, and he was sure that was evident in his voice.

"When something happens often," Blaine confessed. "It isn't extraordinary. Especially if…well, my mom says he doesn't mean it, that it's just the booze talking."

His mother. Kurt didn't even want to contemplate the woman's role in this sick parody of a family atmosphere. He was clueless as to how the union of two people so completely and totally oblivious to morale and rightness could have resulted in someone as complex and caring as Blaine.

"Just…can we not talk about it?" Blaine turned puppy eyes to Kurt, pleading with him to drop the subject.

It was a face that made Kurt's reserves want to crumble, but he knew better this time. He'd made that mistake before; he'd seen the bruises and promptly forgotten about them when he'd been submersed in his own drama, and look how that had turned out. There was no way that Kurt could pretend this hadn't happened. It was about more than the fact that a father was beating his child. This was _Blaine._

"No, we can't just 'not talk about it'," Kurt said finally, daring to make eye contact. "How could you say that? How could you expect me to feel nothing? Would you…I mean, how would _you_ feel if our situations were reversed?" He took Blaine's silence as an answer.

He climbed onto his knees and scooted closer to Blaine, taking his hand. "I'm involved in this now," he said bluntly, rubbing the back of Blaine's hand with his thumb. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm glad that I'm here right now, just like this, with you – circumstances and all. I get to _help_ you, like you've helped me."

"You _are_ glad?" Blaine's tone had taken on an edge of uneasiness and his eyes darted to and from Kurt quickly. "I mean I thought that maybe…in the light of day. Well, not that I was thinking straight for a lot of last night," Blaine seemed to realize what he'd just said and his face took on an alarmed appearance. "I mean, I knew what I was doing; that isn't what I meant. I just meant…maybe I thought that you would want something more come the morning…well not something _more_. You – you know, maybe you would have regretted…things…because you said you were confused." Blaine's face was flamingly red and he looked horribly flustered, which Kurt tried not to find _too_ amusing.

"You're rambling. Nonsensically," he added, though despite Blaine's inability to form real sentences, he was making perfect sense. He was talking about what seemed like the many times Kurt had run away from affection because of his unwillingness to choose what he wanted. "But…you should never question what someone does under emotional stress, because a lot of the time that is when they're able to show their truest emotions." Kurt smiled at Blaine hesitantly. "I didn't think about anyone but you yesterday and I think that's telling.

Blaine was still frowning as he contemplated the hand that held his, looking thoroughly unsure of himself. "Words don't convince you?" Kurt asked quietly, causing Blaine to glance up at him with raised eyebrows. He observed the sly look Kurt gave him with caution, just having time to prepare himself before Kurt closed the distance between them and traced his lips softly against Blaine's cheek.

_Not fair_, Blaine thought as his eyes fluttered closed. Not fair, not fair, not fair. "Convinced yet?" Kurt asked quietly, lips brushing softly against the shell of Blaine's ear.

"Uh…no?" Blaine responded, catching onto the game. Kurt's lips had pressed against his smooth jaw below his ear, and Blaine could feel Kurt's mouth shift into a smile against his skin.

He lightly kissed first one cheek, then the other, pulling back afterward to look into Blaine's eyes. "Now?"

"I'm afraid not," Blaine said seriously, shaking his head in mourning.

Tenderly, Kurt pressed his lips to the corner of Blaine's mouth, hand lifting to gently trace the edge of the purple that spread over the boy's cheekbone. "How about now? Hmm?"

"Closer," Blaine whispered, their lips still close enough together so that he could feel them brush off one another when they spoke.

From that position, Kurt shifted forward just an inch until their lips were pressed together. Blaine felt his heart hitch in his chest and his breath catch as Kurt's lips caressed his softly. Their mouths worked against one another's for a few moments before Kurt pulled away, leaving Blaine leaning toward him slightly, eyes closed.

Before Blaine could open his eyes, Kurt bobbed forward and placed a final, playful kiss on the tip of his nose, making the dark-haired Warbler scrunch it adorably. "Then you'll just have to take my word for it," Kurt informed him, pleased when Blaine's mouth tipped upward in a smile and he responded with a nod.

Feeling the need for a change of subject, and trying to avoid thinking about what the hell he would say to Jordan come Monday, Kurt looked around for his cell phone. He'd carried it in with him last night, and he remembered having it at some point in the room the night before. "Have you seen my cell phone?" He asked Blaine.

Blaine was silent for a moment before he nodded to Kurt's neatly folded clothes, which were stacked on a desk chair – he'd borrowed pajamas. "It was on the ground this morning so I set it with your things. It…well, it's been ringing. A lot. I didn't want to wake you up."

_Oh great._ That could only mean one thing: his father had found out that Kurt wasn't at Mercedes'. He was surprised that he hadn't called the police already. Kurt rushed over to his phone and sighed as the screen came to life and illuminated his missed calls: one each from Mercedes and Carole, three from Finn, and five from his dad. "I'm in trouble," Kurt muttered to himself. "They…don't exactly know what I did last night."

Blaine's expression was worried but he didn't say anything, which Kurt was glad for. What was there to say after all, besides what little they already had? "I have to call him," Kurt told Blaine quietly. That was inevitable, Blaine figured. This was the end. People would know about his secret from now on, people who wouldn't be persuaded to not report it.

As soon as Blaine nodded in response, Kurt dialed the number and held the phone to his ear. It had hardly rung once before he heard Burt's voice on the other line:

"_Kurt! Is that you? Where are you? Are you alright?"_

"Dad," Kurt answered. "I'm…well, okay I guess. I…" This was going to be more difficult than he thought.

"_What in the hell could have possibly gotten into you last night? Did you drive your car? You're in a cast, Kurt. You're still recovering from one car crash – as soon as we get your car repaired and back at the house, you…you'd just better have a really good explanation for this."_

"I do. Dad, just please stay calm." Blaine was observing Kurt with wide eyes. He could only hear one side of the conversation, but it didn't sound like it was going swimmingly. "I'm going to…tell you some things, and I need you to just not freak out, okay?"

"_Kurt, this isn't sounding promising."_

"I know, I'm sorry." He massaged his temple with two fingers, bracing himself for Burt's reaction. "I'm at Blaine's house. I left because he needed help last night. But I…_we_ kind of need you to pick us up." Suddenly, Kurt was fully aware of how awkward this was going to be with Blaine sitting right in front of him.

Blaine seemed to sense Kurt's discomfort, because he stood up from where he'd been sitting on his bed and walked to Kurt's side. He took the countertenor's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "It's okay," he mouthed.

"_Kurt, what happened?"_ Burt was speaking again. _"Kurt, what's going on? Talk to me."_

"Something happened last night, dad." He heard Burt go silent on the other end of the line and flushed deep scarlet at the misconception his father might have made. "I mean that there was an accident." That was absolutely no better. "When we got to Blaine's house, Dad, his father was…" Kurt was at a loss for words again, and this time his voice had cracked.

He turned his face away from Blaine, ashamed at the mist that blurred his vision, and the hot, prickling emotion that welled up in his chest. He squeezed his eyes closed and a few shameful tears slid down his cheeks. Kurt didn't open them as he felt Blaine gently take the phone from the grip, but he did turn into the other Warbler's comforting embrace when Blaine opened his arms.

"Mr. Hummel? This is Blaine." Blaine's voice sounded much more composed than Kurt was, and despite his own shameful weakness, Kurt was glad that he had taken the phone from him. Blaine's hand was currently rubbing warm, reassuring circles on his back and Kurt was relaxing in the circle of his embrace.

"_Blaine? What happened to Kurt? Can someone just give me some damn answers?"_

"Yes, sir. Kurt came to pick me up from a party last night, and I assume full responsibility for the fact that he was out driving, especially at night. He was just going to drop me off at home, but…my father had been drinking." Kurt heard his voice falter for the first time, but Blaine shook it off instantly and continued on. Burt was silent on the other end. "I don't even…Mr. Hummel, we're both fine but…he gets violent sometimes, and…last night was one of those times."

Burt was quiet for a moment but when he spoke up, his voice was deadly calm. _"Blaine, you aren't saying…you can't be saying that your father…hits you?"_

Kurt couldn't hear his father's response but the way Blaine's eyes had gone wide made him think he knew what Burt had said. Blaine had never heard it said aloud in such a blunt way, but that was exactly what it was. "…Yes, Mr. Hummel."

"_He beats you?"_

"Y-yes…Mr. Hummel, please." Blaine's voice would never get to the point of hysteria, but it had certainly lost its collected tone. "I'm sorry; I don't even know what to say. I didn't want Kurt to be here, I didn't want anyone to…You don't ever have to forgive me for putting your son in danger, Mr. Hummel, but could you please come pick us up? Him – pick _him_ up?"

"_Where are you?"_

"E-excuse me?"

"_Where are you, physically?_

"At...my house."

"_But where? In your room?"_

Blaine's face flushed a shade that could have rivaled Kurt's. Was this some sort of trick? "Y-yes. B-but I have locks on the door." The words left his mouth before he realized what he was saying, but as soon as he said them, Blaine only wanted to whack his head against something.

Apparently Burt didn't feel the same way Blaine did, because he just said: _"Good. Don't unlock the door. Stay right there, I'm driving down; I'll bring Finn to drive the other car back. What's your address?"_

Blaine told him where his house was and hung up with a shocked expression on his face. "What's he going to do?" Kurt asked.

"I…I don't know."

"Blaine, I'm sorry I couldn't talk. When I started trying to tell him about – _you know_ – I just froze up, I couldn't form words."

"You shouldn't have to," Blaine reassured him. "This is my problem. I was the one who got you mixed up in it, so I should be the one that gets you out of it."

"And you too," Kurt added. "Because we aren't just leaving you. I won't go unless you're safe."

Blaine's smile quirked ruefully, as if he was thinking something differently but didn't voice it. "Sure, right." He sighed heavily and fell back against his pillows. "I can't believe this, any of it. I can't believe that we're hiding in my room. I can't believe that both of our faces are purple. I can't believe last night happened, and you were there. I can't believe that I would ever be as mad at anyone as I was at my dad when he pushed you. Most of all, I can't believe that you aren't running away screaming right now."

Kurt crawled onto the bed beside Blaine and curled up against his warm side, resting his head on his shoulder while Blaine's arm encircled his frame. "I would never. Even if I'm not exactly happy that you didn't tell anyone – didn't tell _me _ – about anything that was happening; now that I know, you couldn't get rid of me."

Blaine was quiet after Kurt finished speaking, but when he opened his mouth to talk, his words came out hesitant and fragile. "Kurt, what will happen to me? Will they take me away? Will they arrest him? I can't leave my mom alone, I can't. I'm…I'm scared, Kurt."

Those were questions that Kurt couldn't answer, Blaine had to have known that. He must have been asking for comfort's sake then, and that was something Kurt could provide. "I guess you just have to have faith that everything will be okay. You have to remember that there are people who love you, people who would do anything to keep you safe."

An idea occurred to him and Kurt sat up in bed. He turned to Blaine's iPod docking station, which sat on his bedside table beside the lamp, and scrolled through the songs, ignoring Blaine's question: "Uh, Kurt? What are you _doing?_"

He grinned widely when he saw that the song he had been looking for was listed. He touched the song title and turned to Blaine as the music started playing.

"Kurt, you aren't…_this_ song, really?"

"I like this song," he said, feigning injury. Kurt lowered his voice to an almost seductive timbre, and leaned close to Blaine. "Sing with me, Blaine." It was not phrased as a question.

_Are you feeling down and lonely?_

_Feeling like you can't go on_

_Just remember love will find a way_

Blaine rolled his eyes again but Kurt saw the smile on his face, and he knew he had won – there was no way he could have resisted. The counter tenor poked him in the side repeatedly, prompting him to sing the next lines.

Feeling tremendously foolish, Blaine sung along to the jazzy tune where Kurt had left off.

_Tell me, are you going through changes?_

_Time seems like it's passing by_

_Just believe that love will find a way_

As it often did when he sang, the world sunk away around Kurt. Thoughts of the fact that both him and Blaine were covered in bruises, thoughts of the previous night, the idea that Cayden might be somewhere in the house, perhaps hearing this, all sunk out of Kurt's mind and there was only him and Blaine, singing to one another.

Kurt moved closer to the other boy. Blaine's hands lifted to Kurt's face, and he brushed his fingers against the wet streaks that lingered on Kurt's cheek, drying them upon contact. He leaned forward and gently kissed where the tear stains had been before singing once more.

_I see the tears you cry_

_I see the pain that's in your eyes_

_So many times you were lonely_

_And no one seemed to care_

Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand strongly, entwining their fingers. Their voices were rough with stress and emotion – nothing that would have been permissible in any sort of Warbler performance – but Kurt thought Blaine's voice in that moment was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. It was vulnerable and open, pure and organic. It was Blaine without backup singers around to support him, and without an instrument.

He gave Blaine's hand a reassuring squeeze as he sang the next lines.

_But if your hopes for your tomorrows_

_Are drowning in your sorrows_

_Know your heart will show you the way_

Blaine leaned up on the balls of his feet, expression perking up as it always did when he sung, as if no bad mood could stay with him in such an environment. Kurt had done this for him, Blaine realized. Yes they were singing together, but Kurt had done this for _him_. It should scare him that there was a person who knew him well enough to predict the perfect remedy for his moods, but it didn't. It was more of a comfort than anything else, and once again Blaine thought that he was more thankful for Kurt than the other boy could ever know.

His hand still lingered on Kurt when Blaine sang again, though it had travelled down to rest lightly on his collarbone.

_Are you trying to find a beginning?_

_Or something just to hold onto_

_Always know that love will find a way_

Kurt's hand that was not tangled in Blaine's rose to where his other hand rested on his collar and he covered it with his own, as if the more contact their skin made, the more he could convey to Blaine in the words he next sung.

_Is it hard, this life you're living?_

_Does the world seem so unkind?_

_Don't you worry, love will find a way_

_Some say we've lost our way_

_Some say the world has gone astray_

_But if you know where you're going_

_There's nothing you can't do_

Kurt had a tactic, Blaine was aware of this fact. This was a distraction meant to train his mind away from the frightening aspect of the future and toward sort of hope that could come from the circumstances. Even though he knew that, Blaine was more grateful than he could say. Most people would say it was just a song, but Blaine knew better, as he was sure Kurt did too.

It was different, going through something tough with someone by your side no matter what. Blaine had never had that experience before. He'd like to think that he had been that person for Kurt in his final days at McKinley and his first at Dalton, but this was the first time that Blaine had opened up to anyone enough for them to see that he _did_ need help. In a twisted way, last night had been a guilty pleasure for Blaine. He was pleased at what had come about due to it. He was with Kurt, and it wasn't because he'd done battle with Jordan and won – Kurt had seen him in his most torn down and vulnerable state and still wanted to be with him. If that wasn't miraculous, Blaine didn't know what was.

Kurt paused, waiting for Blaine to finish the song with a hopeful smile on his face.

'_Cause problems will come_

_And they will leave you_

_The world will try to deceive you_

_But the truth will always be in your soul_

Blaine's voice faded off quietly, and he kept his eyes trained downward for a few moments before looking up at Kurt. "Feel better?" Kurt asked brightly. The other Warbler laughed quietly, nodding his head. "And hey, no matter what happens – you know that I would never let anything happen to you."

"I used to think I was the one who was supposed to protect you," Blaine told him. "Coming to McKinley after you told me what happened with Karofsky. As it turns out, you take care of me one hundred times more than I ever could."

"And I want to," Kurt admitted. "It's kind of nice: looking out for someone, standing up for them. You were the one who told me to do that, remember?"

"I remember." Blaine's tone had taken on an edge of darkness. "Too bad I couldn't take my own advice."

Kurt didn't reply directly; he simply squeezed Blaine's hand reassuringly and leaned against his headboard. Long moments passed where neither of them spoke. Blaine was the one to break the long silence. "Kurt?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't suppose that it's possible Burt would be coming alone, is it?"

Kurt grimaced. He hadn't thought about that, and no, it wasn't likely that he would. "I'd be expecting…some sort of artillery." Blaine's face drained of color. "Hey, it was a joke," Kurt hastened to say, laughing nervously. He didn't _think_ that his father would come with firearms. Though on the other hand, he _had_ threatened to burn McKinley to the ground with a flamethrower last year. If he brought one, Kurt decided, it was for intimidation's sake alone.

* * *

Just over an hour later, the pair heard a car pull into the Anderson's driveway. "Blaine?" Kurt asked anxiously.

"Hrmm? Huh? What?" Blaine had dozed off, and he was now attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"I heard a car." Kurt hurried to Blaine's second story window but the way it was positioned did not allow him a view of the car's occupants, though he did recognize his father's car. "Should we go out?"

"Come on." Blaine was one step ahead of him, grabbing Kurt's hand and towing him to the door where he unlocked the various manual locks that secured his door. The two stepped into the blessedly deserted hallway only to hear a voice thunder from downstairs.

"_What the hell is this?_"

Blaine whipped his head around to look at Kurt. "My dad," he whispered. Cayden must have already opened the door. The pair hurried down the hall to the top of the spiraling staircase, where they had a clear view of the front door.

"Oh my God," Kurt whispered. "He _didn't_." At the door stood Burt; behind him, arms crossed on all fronts, was a small army of defensive jocks. "How did he even get them _together_ so fast?"

Finn's eyes immediately traveled up the staircase to where Blaine and Kurt stood, and the stoic set of his shoulder's relaxed upon seeing them whole. Kurt figured that he wasn't able to see the color of their faces from where he stood. Puck stood next to Finn, though his gaze didn't travel in the same way. His eyes remained fixated on Blaine's father, as if taking them off for a moment would allow the man an opportunity to slip away. Sam and Mike stood one step behind the former two, though they appeared just as ready to leap into the house and search it for Kurt and Blaine inch by inch.

"This is my house; you can't just march in here with your gang of kids." Cayden was planted firmly in the doorway.

"I can when that's _my_ kid you've got sequestered in there, afraid to come out. Boys," Burt summoned the quartet forward.

With five big men pushing down on him, Blaine's father had no choice but to step aside, though his words didn't slacken in their ferocity. "Your kid? That fairy boy belongs to you? Then get him the fuck out of my house, I don't need him in here contaminating my son, who used to be normal."

In the blink of an eye, Burt had whipped around and shoved Cayden back against the oak door. "Da – _Burt_," Finn recovered quickly, laying a hand on his step-father's shoulder. The one word was enough to calm Burt down to a degree, enough so that he relaxed his grip on the elder Anderson. He was in the man's house – if he hurt him, he could be brought up on charges himself. Technically, what they were doing was still forced entry.

"Dad." Kurt's voice was quiet, but it echoed through the sudden silence. Burt turned around quickly, leaving Cayden stunned against the door.

"Kurt," Burt said, sounding relieved. His relief was short-lived however, because as Kurt and Blaine approached the others, still hand in hand, Burt blanched upon closer sight of them. Behind him, Cayden was glaring daggers at the descending pair.

"Dude, your face," said Puck in a shocked monotone.

"I fell at Ben's house," Kurt said hurriedly. Well, that was only a _little_ fib. "I hit my head against something. It's not…it wasn't…"

"Did Blaine fall too?" Finn asked quietly, surveying them intensely.

Blaine looked around uncomfortably. "Uhm…n-no."

"Boys." One word from Burt was all it took.

Sam and Mike each took one of Cayden's arms and practically dragged him to a chair in the adjacent room, where they sat him down forcefully and lingered over him. "Try to get up and leave and you get my _fist_ in your face," Puck threatened.

Cayden glowered at them all murderously. "I'll have you all arrested for this. You –"

He was interrupted by Burt's scoff. "You'll have us arrested," he repeated. "Somehow, I seriously doubt that will take off." He turned to Blaine, pity apparent in his eyes. "I'm not leaving until this is fixed," he promised Blaine. "I'm not leaving until you're safe. Where's your mom?"

"S-she teaches yoga classes on Saturday and Sunday mornings," Blaine stuttered. His grip on Kurt's hand had been growing increasingly tighter and increasingly more clammy.

"You have a house phone?"

"In the next room over," Blaine instructed, nodding in the direction opposite of his father. "On the left."

"I'll be right back. Finn…just, watch everything, okay?"

"Got it."

As soon as Burt was out of the room, Blaine turned to Kurt with wide, worried eyes. "What's going to happened to me?" He whispered, more frantic than before. "Kurt, I don't…I don't…"

"Shh," Kurt soothed. "Blaine, nothing will happen to _you_. Calm down, alright? My dad knows what to do."

The other boys had been politely pretending not to hear the quick exchange, but Cayden held no such consideration. "I hope to God that they take you away," he hissed.

"_Shut. Up._" That was Sam, coming to within a few inches of the other man's face. "You don't deserve to hope to God for anything after the things you've done to Blaine."

"He's an abomination. People like you only _pretend_ not to know it."

Sam appeared to be struggling valiantly to maintain his composure. He stood straight once more, breathing heavily. He didn't address Cayden again, but instead he turned to Blaine. "It isn't true," he said quietly before turning away and leaning against a wall, glaring at Blaine's father from under his long blonde bangs.

Kurt observed Sam curiously. What was this all about? He didn't know what to think about the four walking McKinley boys coming to what was essentially their rescue on a Saturday morning. He turned to see if he could glean Blaine's reaction from his expression and was shocked to see the slideshow of feelings shown there, as clear as day.

This was his father, Kurt reminded himself. The man might act like a monster to him, he might beat him and verbally abuse him but he was still Blaine's father, and Blaine still had to watch him confined to a chair as if he was a prisoner, while receiving scathing glances from the man as if this was entirely his son's fault. Kurt couldn't put himself in that position for the life of him; he simply couldn't imagine it.

On the other hand, there were people literally coming to his rescue, people he hardly knew at all. Was it possible that people who were one step above strangers cared about him more than his own family? Blaine's thoughts shifted to Burt, in the next room talking to God only knew who. Burt was proving to be more fatherly than the man who he shared DNA with. Blaine wanted to somehow release this built-up emotion. He wanted to run across the country, or scream until he was hoarse, or cry until his tear ducts had run dry but he knew he couldn't do any of those things. He did realize that he was most likely cutting off the circulation in Kurt's hand, but the other boy wasn't complaining, and Blaine needed some sort of outlet.

Blaine felt a hand touch his shoulder gently, and he spun around to face Burt. "Think we can talk alone?" Blaine went pale at the question, irrationally thinking that Burt was going to get mad at him for something: dragging his son into this poisonous environment or holding his hand in front of everyone…

"O-okay," he answered, voice still wavering. Burt's face softened at the shakiness of Blaine's voice, and he gently led him into the other room. Kurt watched them go without a hint of worry. Over the course of the last two years, Kurt's trust in his father's capabilities had reached sky high levels. Whatever he wanted to talk to Blaine about, it would help.

* * *

Fifteen long, drawn out minutes had passed and Blaine and Burt were still in the other room. Kurt's brow furrowed as he heard another car pull up outside the house.

As if summoned by the noise, Burt walked through the foyer and to the front door. Kurt's eyes slid past his father to where Blaine should be following…but the boy didn't leave the room. Torn between wanting to see who was at the door and wanting to be at Blaine's side, Kurt finally made up his mind and exited the foyer in favor of the room Blaine and Burt had been talking in.

It was a large, official looking room, complete with dark wood cabinets and leather chairs. To the right was a large fireplace, and Blaine sat on a leather couch nearby. Wordlessly, Kurt walked over and sat by him.

"It's the police," Blaine told him, looking pitiful with his bruised body and knees drawn up to his chest. "Your dad said that they'd take him away…to jail." Blaine's eyes shied away from meeting Kurt's. "And that Child Protective Services would come for me and my mom tomorrow, for questioning."

Kurt had a million questions that he would never ask. How long was he going to be there for? He wouldn't be allowed back into their house afterward, would he? What would Awa say? What would she _do_? Was she getting in trouble? She'd just sat there…

In spite of the questions forming in his mind, Kurt couldn't find words of comfort. Thankfully, he was spared by the entrance of a uniformed man. "I'm Officer Shelley. Which one of you is Blaine Anderson?"

"That's me," Blaine answered, turning to look at the officer. The man's face softened as he caught sight of Blaine's bruised face, but sharpened once again when he saw Kurt's unfortunately matching visage.

"You're Kurt Hummel, then?"

"Yes."

"We'll be sending another officer for both of you, as well as Mrs. Anderson, tomorrow."

Kurt glanced at Blaine uneasily. "For both of us?"

"We need a witness's statement, Mr. Hummel," Shelley explained. "You're the primary third party source."

Kurt hardly thought he could be considered third party, but he nodded dumbly and tried not to look too confused as the officer left with a nod and a promise to see them both soon.

"Kurt, I didn't know –"

"You don't have to say anything," Kurt told him with a shake of his head. "I'm more than happy to do anything that helps you."

"Happy," Blaine muttered, voice forlorn once more.

Kurt patted the back of his hand and stood up from the couch he'd joined Blaine on. "We should go out there."

"Right."

When they emerged into the foyer, Mr. Anderson was already gone and Burt and the McKinley boys were standing in a little huddle, speaking in hushed tones. Kurt was secretly glad that Blaine had at least avoided the sight of his father getting packed away in a police car.

Finn cleared his throat when he saw that the two Dalton boys had entered the foyer, and the others stopped talking suddenly.

"Oh, don't let us stop you," Kurt said sarcastically. "Really, go on. We'll just stand here."

"Kurt," Burt said with a shake of his head. "Come on, now. Well it looks like they'll be wanting to talk to you, so I think we'll find a hotel to stay in here tonight."

"Mr. Hummel," Blaine spoke up, sounding pained. "I don't want to put you to more trouble. I already feel awful –"

"Hey," Burt interrupted sharply. "You don't ever have to feel sorry for something like this. Not for a second, okay?" After a moment, Blaine nodded, still looking unconvinced. "We'll get a hotel in Westerville. You boys can drive back to Lima in Kurt's car."

Finn looked uneasy, as if it ran against his conscience to leave at a time like this, but he nodded at the instruction and grabbed the keys Burt offered him – he must have brought the extra set from their house. "Got it," he said. "C'mon guys." He exited the house with the other boys in suit.

At the door, Puck seemed to hesitate. He turned back into the house and approached Blaine, setting his hands on his shoulders in a surprising act of defensive caring. Blaine looked as if he was afraid of getting hit again.

"If anything like this happens again," Puck started fiercely. "You better let us know ASAP. It doesn't take _that_ long to get from Lima to Westerville going one-ten on the interstate, you know."

"I…I got it," Blaine answered, shock evident in his tone. "And…thank you." Puck nodded, half-smile on his lips, and walked to join the others who were piling into the car.

"Dad," Kurt said, turning his eyes away from the car as it pulled away. If they ruined his leather interior…well, that was a worry for another time. "Do you think I can maybe…stay with Blaine for now? Until his mother gets home, at least?"

Burt did not appear shocked by the question. "Of course," he answered. "I'll be back, after I get a spot at a hotel."

With a last pat on each of their shoulders, Burt walked to his own car and left the driveway.

Blaine and Kurt watched him pull away in momentary silence. Blaine spoke first. "Wow," was all he said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"So I guess that's what it's like to have people who want you kept safe," he said slowly. "Now I just have to wonder why."

"Believe it or not, there are more people who would want to see you protected than who would want to see you hurt."

"Not in my life," Blaine said without hesitation.

"Well," Kurt started, reaching out to grab Blaine's hand. "I think it's about time to recount those statistics."

A slow smile spread across Blaine's face, but he didn't reply. For the moment, the two just stood in the foyer of Blaine's house, looking out the small windows on either side of the door. For the moment, simply standing there was enough for both of them.

* * *

_Love Will Find A Way - Lionel Richie_


	16. Chapter 16 :: Is It Any Wonder?

_A/N: I'd like to start with a little disclaimer: I really have little idea how the post-child abuse system works. I don't mean to offend anyone by misrepresenting it, so I apologize in advance. I did a bit of research into it, but every state is unique and it's all really complex, especially when you're trying to convey it in a fic. That said, if there are any glaring misrepresentations that both you, feel free to point it out and I'd be more than happy to change things around :) The only thing I can't change when it comes to that is the sentence itself - that will be crucial to the plot from here on out._

_This chapter reaches the point in the story I wanted to hit in the last one, but it got too long to be consistent with the other chapters. I almost split it again but decided against it at the last moment. That means that next chapter will be Regionals!_

_Enjoy! :)_

* * *

SIXTEEN:

Kurt and Blaine were not allowed to see each Sunday morning other before they underwent their respective questionings. The authorities took down Kurt's story first, so he and Burt could make the drive back to Lima as early as possible.

Kurt left the room he'd spoken to the Child Protective officials in, among them Officer Shelley, and passed through the waiting room on his way outside, where Burt had told him he would be waiting in the car. He didn't say anything to Blaine, but he smiled and nodded encouragingly.

Blaine sat on the edge of the bench, looking incredibly pale, except for the dark circles under his eyes. His gaze followed Kurt across the room as he left, attempting a smile in return. The time spent in close proximity to Kurt had been the only time in the past few days when Blaine had felt like things might just turn out for the better. Now that he was leaving, Blaine's stomach erupted in nervous butterflies.

His mother clutched onto his arm as if her life depended on it. She had come home to Burt in an armchair in their living room, watching a football game. Blaine sat in a nearby chair and the two of them periodically cried out in either exasperation or exaltation depending on the antics of their team. Kurt had been sitting nearby flipping through Mrs. Anderson's latest _Vogue_, though he was more interested in watching Blaine and Burt. He admired his father's strategy, really: trying to get Blaine's mind off of the present situation as much as possible.

Of course, that had all come crashing down upon his mother's return. Burt had taken it upon himself to explain what had happened that morning, from his point of view. By the end of his story, she was casting her eyes about nervously. Blaine had put an arm around his mother's shoulders protectively, making Kurt even more confused about Awa Anderson. They obviously loved one another…perhaps she was simply _afraid_ of her husband and that why she never definitively stood up for her son's wellbeing.

After that, Kurt and Burt had left promptly, leaving the remaining two Andersons alone. Blaine had tried to get some rest that night, though he wasn't sure he succeeded. When he woke early in the morning, his mother was in the same chair he'd left her at the night before, looking just as awake as she had been then, though her eyes were considerably more red-rimmed. Blaine had tactfully avoided mention of that.

In the end, the questions they had asked him were not as difficult as he had expected. Blaine had turned on an emotionless countenance upon their hailstorm of inquiries. He'd come out when he was fourteen. He hadn't been hit at first, not until news of his sexuality made its way around the community and people started whispering about it. His father had been under the influence. His mother had never touched him. She took care of him after the fact. Blaine made sure to mention that she had no power to stop Cayden, though to the best of his knowledge she never tried.

They talked to Awa after him, and in the end they sent both home, with a stipulation: there would be a social worker coming to check on them every week. Blaine rationally figured that was routine procedure after this sort of event, he didn't even consider that something Kurt said could have resulted in the condition. In fact, he thought that they'd gotten released with relatively few hang-ups, for which he was both surprised and relieved. They left with word from Officer Shelley that there would be a small meeting with a judge and determination of a sentence within the next week.

* * *

Kurt didn't call or text Blaine that day. He assumed that if the other Warbler wanted to talk about what had happened he would call first, or else they would see each other in person on Monday.

Monday morning rolled around with no news from Blaine, making Kurt eager for the time that they would see each other in Mrs. Alcott's class that morning. He felt like that one weekend had lasted months. Could it have been only three days ago that Blaine had sung that hateful song in front of the Warblers? Was it only three days ago that Kurt felt like there was nothing that could justify Blaine's action, and nothing that could happen to override that one act?

In the turmoil of the last few days, Kurt had only spared a few passing thoughts concerning Jordan. Circumstances were considerably altered from the last time he had seen the other boy. He and Blaine hadn't talked about being 'together', but Kurt was under the impression that after all of their touches and shared kisses, it was implicit. That meant he had made a choice. That did not mean, however, that anything he might have felt for Jordan vanished like smoke in the wind. As Kurt was reminded of the other boy, even as he walked into Alcott's classroom, he only _wished_ it worked that way.

"Have a nice weekend, confined to any place you could hobble to, O Casted One?" Jordan asked Kurt with a smirk, sliding into the seat next to him. His cocky grin momentarily faltered when Kurt turned his head and he saw the yellowing bruise spread across his cheekbone. "Whoa…are you – I mean, are you _okay?_ Holy shit, what happened to you? Are you just freakishly accident prone?"

"Oh, you have _no_ idea." Kurt muttered his answer, keeping his face turned to his notebook as he pretended to be writing something important that required the majority of his attention.

Jordan sat in shocked silence for a moment before continuing on, probably to quickly change the uncomfortable subject. "My weekend was great too, thanks for asking. _Chicago_'s closing show was last night. Sold out – and you _know_ who people come to see." Kurt said nothing in response to his suggestive self-praise, making the corner of Jordan's mouth dip down in a frown.

"We're having a cast party this weekend," he pressed on. "I'm sure even with that cast, you could limp on over and schmooze with _real_ theatre actors."

"Your astoundingly condescending invitation is tempting, but I'm…busy," Kurt said, looking desperately at the door. Class would begin in a couple minutes and if Blaine didn't walk through that door soon, Kurt would start to worry.

A moment later, even as the first seeds of concern sprouted in Kurt's mind, Blaine entered the room, smiling when he saw Kurt beaming at him.

Jordan scrunched his nose, not seeing Blaine. "Too busy? I'm afraid that doesn't _compute_. No one is too busy to come to a professional cast party." He frowned more severely as Kurt looked even farther away. "What're you…" His voice trailed off as he looked up and saw Blaine walking across the room, eyes affixed to Kurt as if they were the only two in the room.

Immediately, he could tell that something was different. His eyes took in Blaine's equally marred face, and Jordan's brow crinkled. Besides the fact that it was just _creepy, _it was no coincidence; something had happened last weekend that he didn't know about, something that had changed the game. Jordan clenched his jaw, teeth grating against each other forcefully. He sat back in his seat, arms crossed. Sooner or later he would get a conclusive idea of just what that was. Though, Jordan thought to himself, he had a sinking feeling that he already knew.

* * *

It didn't take a genius to be able to see Kurt and Blaine's new status within a nanosecond of being in their vicinity. On the way out of music class, they'd walked out of the room bumping shoulders, Kurt lifting his hand to run his fingers softly over the back of Blaine's hand. Kurt hadn't spoken to Jordan the rest of class and Jordan hadn't tried to engage him in conversation. He'd listened to the next set of students play their instruments in silence, trying to relish in how horrible they all sounded compared to him.

Later that day, he'd been walking to his first afternoon class when he'd glimpsed Blaine and Kurt standing together in one of Dalton's hardwood hallways, whispering to each other quickly. Blaine looked slightly distressed about something, which Jordan might have taken pleasure in had it not inspired Kurt to take the other boy's hand in his and hold it tightly.

Turning away from the couple, because there was no doubt in his mind that that's what they could now be classified as, Jordan began to formulate a plan. Regionals were less than two weeks away, and he was one of the last half dozen people who had yet to sing their try-out song for the solo. He had flipped through the Alcott's long list of acceptable music – which they had made clear on Friday, after Blaine was excused, that those were the _only_ songs you were allowed to sing – and had seen the title, though he hadn't thought much of it at the time. Suddenly, Jordan knew exactly what he would sing.

* * *

It was that Thursday, three days later, when Jordan was eventually called upon to sing his song for the Warblers. He marched over to the small stacks of sheet music, taking out his selection without hesitation and handing it assuredly to the male Alcott sitting at the piano.

"Haunting selection," Oliver commented with a grin, arranging the sheets to his liking. "I'm impressed. Think you can do it justice?"

"I'm sure of it," Jordan answered confidently, eliciting a chuckle out of a few of the Warblers and an amused shake of the head from Oliver.

"We'll see," commented Bridgette lightly, tone neither favorable nor doubtful.

Jordan nodded in her direction acquiescently, and then signaled for Oliver to begin playing as it suited him. The piano notes started and it was but a moment before Jordan's voice rose to accompany them, sounding even more hauntingly passionate than usual.

_Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation_

_Darkness stirs and wakes imagination_

_Silently the senses abandon their defenses_

_Helpless to resist the notes I write…_

_ For I compose the music of the night_

The Warbler's excited twitters over Jordan's impending song had silenced, and they stared at him with wide eyes. He wasn't walking around, but he looked each of them in the eye as he sung, lingering on Kurt's for a moment longer than the others.

_Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor_

_Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender_

_Hearing is believing, music is deceiving_

_Hard as lightening, soft as candlelight_

_Dare you trust the music of the night?_

Jordan had begun to walk through the rows or Warblers, perched in chairs and on couches. His voice rose and fell with the lines, sometimes a chilling whisper and at other times swelling with growing emotion.

_Close your eyes for your eyes will only tell the truth_

_And the truth isn't what you what to see_

_In the dark it is easy to pretend_

_That the truth is what it ought to be_

His eyes had fluttered closed with the lines, though Jordan peeked covertly through his lashes to see that half of the other Warblers' had as well, Kurt among them. The others, like Blaine, watched him carefully. Jordan opened his eyes the rest of the way as he made eye contact with Blaine, the corners of his mouth turning upward in a mischievous smile.

_Softly, deftly, music shall caress you_

_Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you_

_Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind_

_In this darkness which you know you cannot fight_

_The darkness of the music of the night_

Blaine observed Jordan carefully, watching his actions and the drift of his eyes. He seemed to be looking at all of the Warblers. Maybe he really had chosen this song for the sole purpose of the power he could emanate while singing it; the performer in Blaine couldn't fairly deny that he was singing the powerful song with perfect emotion and inflection.

_Close your eyes, start a journey through a strange new world_

_Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before_

_Close your eyes and let music set you free_

_Only then can you belong to me_

Kurt's eyes snapped open, as they'd stayed closed after the line that had prompted the action. The soaring second to last line was thrown into perfect juxtaposition by the wavering final one. It was how the song was meant to be sung, Kurt knew that. But when he looked at Jordan, the older boy's eyes were fixed on him in that moment.

_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication_

_Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation_

_Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in_

_To the power of the music that I write_

_The power of the music of the night_

The last notes of Jordan's performance were followed quickly by loud applause and more than a few exclamations of wonder. Smirk firmly in place, Jordan returned to his seat. In front of him, Blaine reached out and grabbed Kurt's hand, but Jordan was nonplussed. He had made eye contact with Kurt as he sang, and in that moment he believed that he saw more than the other boy would have knowingly let on. In Jordan's mind, he was ever on the road to what he considered victory.

* * *

"That was…weird," Blaine commented after Warbler practice had concluded later that afternoon.

"Hmm?" Kurt murmured absently, pencil scratching against his paper. The two had gone to one of Dalton's study halls to get some homework done before Kurt's late afternoon bus arrived. After school, the halls were virtually deserted, and the two were alone.

"You don't think it was weird?" Blaine asked skeptically.

Kurt cleared his throat self-consciously and set his pencil down. "If you mean the song, and since you haven't even gotten your books out since we arrived I imagine that's _all_ you could be talking about, then no. I don't think it was weird. He's in theatre and he sang a theatre song."

"Kurt, come _on_," Blaine said, exasperated.

"What do you want me to say?" Kurt hissed in a whisper, despite the fact they were the only two in the study hall. "You're being silly, stop thinking so much into things." He was talking to himself as much as he was to Blaine.

"Maybe you're right," Blaine acquiesced, shaking his head. "Maybe I'm just trying to distract myself."

Kurt looked from his paper to Blaine, who was staring into the distance. "It's been a while since last weekend, and I wasn't going to ask. I was going to wait to see if you wanted to talk about it, but…"

"It's alright," Blaine said quickly, rolling a pencil back and forth across the tabletop. "Shelley said that sometime this week they'd have some sort of trial for my dad, to decide how to…punish him, I guess."

Kurt moved toward Blaine in a quick motion and put an arm around his back as Blaine leaned his head on Kurt's shoulder. "The week is almost over, Blaine."

"I know," Blaine replied slowly. "They called us on Tuesday."

Kurt's initial reaction was to be insulted that he hadn't mentioned anything, but reason prevailed. This was Blaine's life, and Blaine's problem. He could take it in the smallest steps he needed to. "When is it, then?"

Blaine paused for a few long seconds, hinting at the answer before he even replied. "Today."

"Today," Kurt repeated. "Like…later this afternoon?"

His words were met with momentary silence once again. "Not exactly… It was scheduled for four o'clock."

"Blaine, that was an hour and a half ago!"

"I know," Blaine moaned. "I couldn't go, I couldn't face it. They told me that they didn't need me there, that it was my choice. And I couldn't. I can't see him face a judge, I can't be there the moment that they say he's guilty – because he _is_. There isn't anything that can alter that sentence. Kurt, he's already so different than the man I grew up looking up to. I've seen a lot…but I couldn't see this."

"I understand," Kurt said, holding his arm tightly around Blaine's shoulders. "Blaine." He put his hand on the side of Blaine's face, tilting his head up until they were making eye contact. "This has been going on for so long…I'm just going to be frank, and if it's harsh then so be it. Your dad has been beating you down, literally and figuratively, for too long. If Friday night was any indication of past occurrences, he's said things and done things that make you feel worthless, that made you _believe_ you were worthless. But if there has been anything that you've taught me, it's that you are the one in control of yourself, not anyone else."

"You can tell yourself that you're worth something a million times," Blaine confessed quietly. "You might even convince yourself at first. But it only takes one person, especially one person that you _love_, saying that you're worthless for you to believe it forever. One person can wreck everything."

"You see?" Kurt asked him. "This just proves my point. I do _not_ believe that's the real Blaine talking. If you don't believe yourself, Blaine, why can't you believe me? Why can't you believe me when I say that _you_, the real you, is infinitely stronger than you think you are?"

Blaine had begun to worry his bottom lip and Kurt bent down swiftly to place his lips gently against Blaine's, lingering for only a moment before he pulled away once more. "I don't want to brag," Kurt joked quietly. "But I'm kind of a genius. So if I was you, I'd believe me."

This drew an amused chuckle from Blaine, who tilted his chin up again to press his lips against Kurt's more firmly. "I kind of like you having to convince me of things the hard way, though," he whispered, breath hot against Kurt's lips. He drew in a long breath through his nose as they met again and deepened their kiss, his body arching lithely as he leaned into Kurt.

"Oh God," came a shocked voice from the doorway. Blaine's breath hitched in shock as he and Kurt broke apart and scooted away from one another faster than lightning. "I…uh, sorry! Oh man, this was _not_ in the plan."

Blaine's head whirled around and he saw a large, awkward figure standing unsurely in the doorway. His face flushed crimson when he recognized the visitor.

"Finn," Kurt whispered, aghast. "_What_ are you doing here? I'm supposed to catch the bus in half an hour."

"Well, Burt asked me if I'd run down here after school to come get you," Finn said quickly, face trained to the ground. "And…uh…"

"And you're here to check on me," Blaine finished his sentence knowingly.

Kurt sighed dramatically. Blaine hoped it was because he didn't like being interrupted in the midst of important business rather than annoyance at _him_ for any reason. "And in _all_ of the rooms in Dalton you could go to, you come right to _this_ one? You couldn't have called me or anything?"

"The lady at the front desk said any students who were still here would probably be in the study hall," Finn defended himself. "_Studying_. I could wait outside –"

"_No!_" Kurt and Blaine shouted at the same time. Blaine continued, "I should probably be getting home anyway. I'm fine, really." As he said the words, he looked at Kurt and smiled. Kurt would like to believe that the little speech he'd given Blaine had really convinced him, but at the same time he knew that it would take time, just as everything else did.

Blaine stood, book bag in hand. "I'll call you," he said to Kurt. The sitting Warbler nodded, pressing the pads of his fingers more firmly against his still tingling lips. Blaine hesitated as he passed Finn. "I really am," he added for good measure, lowering his voice. "But I can't say how much it means to me, what you guys did." With that, he walked quickly from the room, shooting Kurt one last glance over his shoulder.

Kurt had been staring at the space he'd last seen Blaine when Finn's voice interrupted his reverie. "So," Finn said slowly. "You two are like…_together_ together?"

"I guess," Kurt answered after a moment's silence.

"And you like, spent the night at his house..."

"Finn, we don't have to do this," Kurt said quickly.

"But you're together and stuff, and having sleepovers. Does Burt know –?"

"Finn, really," Kurt insisted. "Let's not."

"Dude, chill," Finn said, holding out his hands in a peace gesture. "I'm just trying to be brotherly."

Kurt looked up at Finn for the first time, to see that his face was just as red as Kurt imagined his own was. In that moment, he was struck by Finn's gesture of reaching out, even if it was in the most uncomfortable way imaginable. "I know," he assured the other boy. "You're doing a standup job too."

"Hey, I made a promise," Finn said with a grin. "C'mon, limpy. It isn't in the brother's description to have to carry you to the car is it?"

"I _can_ walk," Kurt said obstinately, grabbing his ever present crutches and following Finn as he left the room.

* * *

"Hello?" Kurt answered his phone that night as he sat at his vanity mirror. He was letting his face mask sit and contemplating his bedazzled cast. Some of the jewels had come off last weekend, and he made a mental note to touch it up before Regionals the next week.

"_Hey, it's me."_ Blaine's voice sounded worried.

"Blaine," Kurt said, picking up on his tone immediately. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"_Uh…yeah," _Blaine answered, sounding momentarily distant. _"They, um…well my mom told me what the judge decided."_

"Okay," Kurt said slowly.

"_It wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting – or what I think you are, for that matter."_

"You can tell me. Blaine, what happened?" Whatever had happened at the trial was what was making Blaine so uneasy, giving Kurt a bad feeling about what he was going to hear.

"_Isolation from me and my mom,"_ Blaine said. _"And anger management therapy."_

"That's…well, that isn't so bad –"

"_For a month,"_ Blaine finished.

"What?" Kurt asked in disbelief. "How can that – no. Blaine, that doesn't make any _sense_. They saw you – what he did to you. How can this happen? _One month_? How can that change anything?"

"_Maybe it will,"_ Blaine responded, his voice quiet and hopeful. _"I don't know anyone who's gone to this kind of therapy before, maybe it really does work that fast."_

"Blaine, I don't know," Kurt said. "I'm worried about –" There was a noise on the other end of the line and Kurt heard mumbling voices. "Blaine? Can you still hear me?"

"_Yeah, I hear you,"_ Blaine said, voice clear again. _"Hey Kurt, I'm sorry to have to go so soon when I was the one who called you, but my mom…"_

"Go, go on," Kurt urged him. "It's alright. I'll see you tomorrow."

"_See you tomorrow,"_ Blaine said in turn. He was quiet long enough for Kurt to think that he'd hung up, and he was just moving the phone away from his ear when Blaine spoke again. _"G'night, Kurt."_

Kurt's mouth twitched upward in a small smile. "Night, Blaine."

He exhaled deeply as he closed his cell phone. Kurt turned back to his mirror, trying to distract himself from Blaine's latest news. He cleaned off his face with a washcloth and leaned back in his chair, staring at himself in the mirror. No amount of product he rubbed into his pores could make that bruise go away, or disguise that scabbed skin on his temple that he had to work around.

It hadn't been Mr. Anderson who gave him those marks but the two events were entwined with one another inextricably. Blaine's injuries, on the other hand, _were_ his fault, and they were letting the man essentially walk free after years of abuse. How was that fair? How was _any_ of this fair?

_I…I always thought that I knew_

_I'd always have the right to_

_Be living in the kingdom of the good and true_

_And so on, but now I think I was wrong_

_And you were laughing along_

_And now I look a fool for thinking you were on my side_

He sighed again, this time raising a hand to rub at his tired eyes. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Blaine was supposed to be safe _forever_, not just for a month. Why was it, Kurt wondered, that the bully always came out on top? Karofsky didn't end up getting expelled from school, despite his death threats. Mr. Anderson was no different. Would it _always_ be that way?

_Is it any wonder I'm tired?_

_Is it any wonder that I feel uptight?_

_Is it any wonder I don't know what's right?_

Blaine quickly rushed downstairs, shoving his phone into his pocket as he heard his mother shout again. He had first heard her when he was on the phone with Kurt, causing them to cut their call short.

"Mom?" The small woman appeared to have just set down the phone, and then she turned to Blaine she quickly raised her hands to wipe away the moisture at the corners of her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"It was just your aunt," Awa said. "She was…checking on things. You should go to bed."

Blaine glanced at the old fashioned grandfather clock in the corner of the room. "It's eight."

"Then go do homework," his mother snapped, her voice breaking. She had turned around but hesitated before taking a step, as if contemplating an apology for her short tone. But she didn't turn.

Blaine pressed his lips together tightly, trying not to take his mother's words to heart. She was stressed and frustrated, he told himself, and talking to her sister probably hadn't helped. Blaine's aunt had never liked Cayden.

At the same time, he couldn't help but feel that his mother shouldn't be creating strife between the two of them where it didn't need to be, especially now.

_Sometimes it's hard to know where I stand_

_It's hard to know where I am_

_Well, maybe it's a puzzle I don't understand_

_But sometimes_

_I get the feeling that I'm stranded in the wrong time_

_Where love is just a lyric in a children's rhyme, a sound bite_

He trudged back up the stairs again and into his room, the only place he could find a haven, even now that his father was out of the house. Blaine practically fell onto his bed, and curled up on his side on top of the sheets.

_Is it any wonder I'm tired?_

_Is it any wonder that I feel uptight?_

_Is it any wonder I don't know what's right?_

After she heard her son walk away, Awa turned to the spot where he had been standing. A part of her felt bad for snapping at Blaine, but a bigger part of her was too weary to find the energy to apologize to him, or to care to.

This was partially her fault, she knew that. She was lucky to have seen no consequences in their fiasco. Cayden had made a mistake – many mistakes – but that wasn't the man she had married. She couldn't believe that it had been her husband that had hurt their son. That had been someone else, someone that the therapy would kill. This was entirely _his_ fault, not her husband's.

_Oh these days, after all the misery you made_

_Is it any wonder that I feel afraid?_

_Is it any wonder that I feel betrayed?_

_Nothing left beside this old cathedral_

_Just the sad lonely spires_

_How do you make it right?_

Kurt slipped into his pajamas, struggling to pull them up and over his obnoxious cast. Blaine lay on his bed fully clothed, eyelids drooping shut. Awa sat at the edge of her desk chair primly, casting thoughts of her family aside as she sorted through her business papers.

_Oh, but you try_

_Is it any wonder I'm tired?_

_Is it any wonder that I feel uptight?_

_Is it any wonder I don't know what's right?_

_Oh these days, after all the misery you made_

_Is it any wonder that I feel afraid?_

_Is it any wonder that I feel betrayed?_

* * *

"I don't care what you say. No, put me on the phone with the officer, the one we spoke to. _Then find him_." Kurt sat at the kitchen table while Burt paced the room. He'd waited until the next afternoon to tell his father what Blaine had told him the night before, and it had only taken Burt point five seconds to call the same service that had come to haul Cayden away from the Anderson household.

"Shelley? Good." Pause. "No, I had to hear through my son, who heard through _his_ son. You want to explain to me what the _hell_ you people were thinking?" Pause. "You saw the boy, Shelley. He was more bruised than a damn peach, and you expect me to just sit back and watch while the man that did it waltzes off scot-free?" Pause. "I _know_ he has anger issues, Shelley. I'd venture to say that was pretty obvious." Pause. "A month doesn't do jack shit any way you cut the pie." Pause. "Hell, I'll take the kid in myself if I have to." Pause. "I –" Pause. "Would you –" Pause. "…Fine. But the second he's allowed to see that boy again, you better believe that I'll be looking out for him." Another pause and Burt hung up the phone without a farewell.

"Well?" Kurt asked, not daring to be hopeful after hearing his father's side of the conversation.

"They say the decision's been made," Burt told him, sitting down across the table. "And apparently, based off of Blaine's mom's testimony, his actions of the last few _years_ can all be attributed to an inability to keep a grip on an anger reflex. Bullshit is what _I_ say."

"How can there be nothing we can do?" Kurt asked his father hopelessly. "Nothing _you_ can do?"

"I'm not a miracle worker, kid," Burt whispered, shaking his head. "Though I do appreciate the sentiment. Don't worry about it for the month it lasts. After that, you can bet that you won't be the only one watching that kid's back."

Kurt made a face expressing his uncertainty before turning to leave.

"Kurt?" He turned back to face his dad. "Blaine is a good kid. Unlucky, definitely, but you can't pick your family. He's lucky to have a friend like you, someone to look out for him." Burt raised an eyebrow, tilting his head in a knowing fashion. "You're lucky to have one another."

Kurt bit his bottom lip gently and smiled at Burt. "Thanks, Dad." Burt nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable, but Kurt knew it was as close to a blessing as they were going to get.

* * *

"One name only," Bridgette said, flittering about between the rows of Warblers in the music hall, handing out slips of blank paper. "And you _can't_ vote for yourself." The last Warbler had just given his performance and Regionals was that Friday, a mere three days away. The day of Regionals would mark one week since the start of Cayden's therapy; Kurt could hardly believe it was already one-fourth over.

"Remember that Blaine remains disqualified," Oliver added. "Votes for him won't count." Blaine kept his face carefully emotionless. He was lucky they were letting him perform in the Regionals set at all, so he was on his best behavior.

Though Oliver hadn't said anything about it, it was implicit that there was one more person whom it would be unwise to vote for: Kurt. Kurt had told the group just yesterday that his cast wouldn't be ready to come off until ten days after Regionals at the earliest. The group needed a mobile lead singer if they wanted to win, Kurt knew that. He would be stuck in the back of the group with Blaine, where his handicapped movements would be difficult for the judges to see.

Kurt took his slip of paper from Mrs. Alcott and wrote his vote without a second's hesitation:

_Jordan_

In a way, Kurt was glad that Blaine wasn't in the running for the solo. Jordan had sung flawlessly, better than either he or Blaine had. This way, it was a guiltless decision.

Only a few short minutes had passed before Bridgette was collecting the slips again. She took them all to the flat surface of the grand piano. Her eyes flicked over the votes. She set slip after slip in the same pile, only breaking the pattern once, leaving one paper in a pile of its own.

"Well, it's almost unanimous," she said, smile playing on her lips. "And I think we can hazard a guess at the reason for the outlier." She turned to the winner with a nod. "Jordan, congratulations." The Warblers immediately erupted into a cacophony of cheers and catcalls. "It looks like you were right about your song; you deserve this solo."

Jordan smiled placidly, looking unsurprised, and raised a hand to wave at his fellow Warblers in thanks.

"Unanimous," Kurt whispered to Blaine, hand reaching out to rest on the other boy's lower thigh.

"Shh," Blaine dismissed his teasing words. "I'm an adult, you know. I can recognize what's best for the team."

"Aw, you're grumpy," Kurt continued teasingly.

"Only if you're Snow White," Blaine replied slyly.

"Deal," Kurt agreed without hesitation. "I think we can really win this thing, though."

"I don't doubt it," Blaine agreed absently, clapping politely to accompany the long applause from the others. "Hardly seems fair though, does it? Who on the other glee clubs really has a chance against someone like him?"

Kurt's brow momentarily furrowed. Blaine was right; it _was_ hardly fair. It only took a moment for him to shake it off. As long as he was on the winning team, it didn't really matter.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Kurt left the study hall alone. Blaine had left directly after Warbler practice, leaving Kurt to study by himself until he had to leave and catch his bus. For the first time that week, he _actually_ got some productive schoolwork done in the study hall.

Despite his crutches, he decided to take the shortcut across the lawn to get from the study hall to the bus stop. It led across the grass, which was thankfully well manicured and therefore not _too_ difficult for Kurt to cross, and through the hallway that led through the music building before letting out one building away from the bus stop on the very edge of the school.

As he passed the Warblers practice room, Kurt heard the definitive sound of piano notes coming from inside, though they were simple. He paused, contemplating entering. Maybe Bridgette and Oliver had stayed late, although that didn't make any sense; he was sure that the musical pair had every sort of instrument at their house, and the notes were too rudimentary for either of them. Curious, he let the door swing in on its hinges gently, exposing the piano player.

Kurt checked his watch. He had time. He opened the door the rest of the way, causing Jordan to turn around, smiling only when he recognized Kurt. "Come on in."

The countertenor entered, the hall's acoustics making the sound of his crutches echo. "What're you playing?"

Jordan scoffed humorlessly. "_Attempting_ to play. I'm afraid I'm not much of a piano person. I took to guitar a lot easier." He scooted over on the bench, wordlessly inviting Kurt to sit next to him. Kurt hesitated, but sat down after a moment, careful not to let their legs touch. "The Alcotts said that as much as you guys seemed to like my song, the judges don't grade traditional theatre very highly. Blasphemy, right?"

"Right," Kurt agreed with a quiet laugh.

"They asked me to pick something a little more modern, something I can relate to and bring my own experiences out in. Mrs. Alcott actually suggested this piece…I'm not sure about it."

Kurt lifted an eyebrow as he saw the title on the sheet music. "Well…I guess I could play it for you for now, just so you can see how you like it. You'll have the Warblers backing you up at the competition, so you won't be singing with instruments, but it shouldn't be _too_ different."

"You play?"

"Never missed a lesson," Kurt responded, lips twisting in a grin.

He'd just set his hands to the keys when Jordan spoke, interrupting his focus. "Would you sing it with me?"

"Excuse me?"

"Like you said, it's just for now," Jordan said quickly. "It helps me if I can hear the inflections in another person's voice. I can hear what stylistic variances sound better than others."

Despite Jordan's technological explanation, Kurt was unsure. "I don't know…"

"Oh, come _on_ Kurt," Jordan persuaded. "No one is here besides us. Our voices are flawless together; I trust that you still remember that?"

"…I remember," Kurt said slowly, gazing downward. "This is _just_ for practice," he clarified, meeting Jordan's gaze seriously. "I'm serious, Jordan. Just for practice, nothing else."

"Sure, sure," Jordan agreed dismissively. "Play." Shaking his head at Jordan's demand, Kurt put his fingers to the keys and began to play. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jordan nodding in time with the melody, mouthing along to something he couldn't identify. The sight set Kurt's mind at ease. He really was just trying to learn the song.

After almost half a minute of no noise but the sounds from the piano, Jordan's voice joined the tune.

_I miss the sound of your voice_

_And I miss the rush of your skin_

_And I miss the still of the silence_

_As you breathe out, I breathe in_

Kurt nodded as Jordan began to sing, voice falling into soothing harmony with the notes. He didn't notice as his own shoulders relaxed, and he ceased to actively attempt to keep as far away from Jordan as he could. "Good," he muttered as Jordan ended the first verse.

_If I could walk on water_

_If I could tell you what's next_

_Make you believe_

_Make you forget_

Jordan knew the words. He didn't have to look at the sheet to know what came next. Instead he watched Kurt. His eyes were traveling along the lines of music, and his face had taken on a serenity that only music could bring. He was beautiful.

_So come on get higher, loosen my lips_

_Faith and desire and the swing of your hips_

_Just pull me down hard and drown me in love_

Jordan found himself smiling as he watched Kurt, expressionless as the other boy was. He forgot that he hadn't seen his father since he left almost a month ago, his mother even before that. In fact, he forgot about Marcus and Geraldine's almost constant absence completely, as well as the fact that he'd had to phone Elsa's school and tell them that he couldn't pick her up until later because of what the Alcotts had asked of him.

In the quick moment before the verse repeated itself, Jordan had a crazy thought, one that was most unlike him. It entered his mind before he could stop it: that right in that moment, with just the two of them, Kurt's face not scrunched up in judgment or guardedness, he might have been the most beautiful thing Jordan had ever seen. When he opened his mouth to sing the next lines, delicate angelic countertenor filling the room, Jordan was sure that he'd never been surer of anything.

_So come on get higher, loosen my lips_

_Faith and desire and the swing of your hopes _

_Just pull me down hard and drown me in love_

Kurt had quickly picked up in the repetitive pattern of the song's melody, and it was no longer essential for him to look at the notes closely. He wanted to look at Jordan, to see what the other boy was doing, but a small part of him reigned in the urge. He was just here to help him; he didn't need to look at him to do that. But he _wanted_ to.

He momentarily cursed Jordan for picking this song. Yes, it was beautiful. It was also insanely awkward to sing with someone you were trying to emotionally distance yourself from.

Against his better judgment, Kurt felt his head turning to look at Jordan. The other boy was staring at him without shame, and his mouth tipped up in a smile when he saw that Kurt had turned to him. The countertenor made contact with Jordan's vibrant, sapphire eyes and suddenly couldn't remember why, only a moment ago, he'd lamented this song choice. It was _beautiful._ He wondered why exactly it was that they couldn't do this all of the time. They could be friends. They could sing together without it being weird. Couldn't they?

_I miss the sound of your voice_

_The loudest thing in my head_

_And I ache to remember_

_All the violent, sweet, perfect words that you said_

Kurt smiled a half-smile, prompting Jordan to reach out and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. His hands still floated along the keys, but he didn't have to think too hard about the notes. He should talk to Blaine about this. Being with Blaine didn't mean not ever being with Jordan; he _liked_ Jordan. They had some things in common that Kurt didn't share with anyone else, even Blaine.

He didn't pay it any heed when Jordan moved a fraction closer to him on the bench, or when the hand on his shoulder began to massage against his skin softly. He was lost in the soaring of Jordan's voice again, intrigued by how any song that the other boy sang sounded as if it came from the very pits of his soul.

_If I could walk on water_

_If I could show you what's next_

_I'd make you believe_

_I'd make you forget_

Kurt was smiling at him. _He was smiling at him_. He didn't flinch away when Jordan touched him; he almost seemed to be enjoying it. It was almost too easy, so easy that Jordan was confused as to the meaning of it all. Maybe he'd read too much into that smile. Maybe he was smiling because Jordan sang the song so well – which he knew he did.

_So come on get higher, loosen my lips_

_Faith and desire and the swing of your hips_

_Just pull me down hard and drown me in love_

Jordan was still watching him, and Kurt was shifting his gaze between the notes, the piano, and Jordan himself. Singing with him was so unbelievably easy, Kurt thought as he prepared to take his turn to sing once again. It obviously wasn't like singing with Blaine – with Blaine, Kurt felt like he could sing any note and it would end up perfect because of the simple fact that it was them singing together. With Blaine, he didn't _need_ to be perfect, he could just be himself. Everything around Blaine would be perfect anyway. Singing with Jordan couldn't be more different. He had to think about every note. He had to prepare himself for it to come out perfectly, it _needed_ to be flawless; he needed to live up to Jordan's talent. His heightened awareness of his own performance in combination with Jordan's resulted in something that was almost surreal. As Jordan's voice faded out once more, Kurt picked up the lyrics.

_So come on get higher, loosen my lips_

_Faith and desire and the swing of your hips_

_Just pull me down hard and drown me in love_

_I miss the pull of your heart_

_I taste the sparks on your tongue_

_I see angels and devils_

_And God when you come on_

_Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on_

Kurt's eyes had fluttered closed in his last verse, and his head tilted back with the pleading lyrics. Jordan's lips parted softly, and his eyes were wide as he observed the emotion not only in Kurt's words but in his actions as well. This wasn't an acting competition; Kurt had made it clear he was only there to sing. He didn't _need_ to sing with desperate emotion, he didn't _need_ to arch his body along with the lyrics.

The smile hadn't left Jordan's face since Kurt had come in the room. Now, he leaned closer and whispered directly into Kurt's ear:

_Sing sha la la la_

Kurt repeated the words.

_Sing sha la la la la_

_Oooo, oooo, oooo…_

Jordan leaned back smugly and moved the hand that had been on Kurt's shoulder to the back of the bench, roughly between them. Jordan sang the lyrics as they picked up again.

_So come on get higher, loosen my lips_

_Faith and desire and the swing of your hips_

_Just pull me down hard and drown me in love_

_So come on get higher, loosen my lips_

_Faith and desire and the swing of your hips_

_Just pull me down hard and drown me in love_

A weight left Kurt's shoulder and he realized that Jordan's hand had been there earlier. How had he not _noticed_ that? He turned to look at Jordan again, this time more warily. He had moved closer sometime during the song, when Kurt was distracted with singing. Kurt hadn't paid attention to that either, but now he was feeling all wrong.

He was supposed to be at the bus stop by now, maybe even on his way home and yet he was here, sharing a piano bench and singing a romantic duet with Jordan.

_It's all wrong, it's all wrong_

_It's all wrong…it's so right_

_So come on, get higher_

Suddenly, Kurt wanted the song to be over as soon as possible. He wanted to get back to Lima and bring Finn a glass of warm milk before settling in and calling Blaine.

Jordan leaned forward as he sung the last lines.

_So come on and get higher_

'_Cause everything works, love_

_Everything works in your arms_

The last piano notes faded away, and Kurt clasped his hands together on his lap. "Well, I don't think you even need practice; it sounds fine. I should –"

"_Wait!"_ He'd made to get up but Jordan grabbed his forearm, causing Kurt, already unsteady on his cast, to plop back down. He was looking at the countertenor with vulnerability in his eyes that Kurt hadn't seen before. He was breathing heavier than normal and Kurt leaned away from him cautiously. "Doesn't it?"

"Doesn't it…what?"

"_Work_," he finished impatiently, sounding almost breathless – almost _desperate._ "Doesn't it work? I can't have been the only one –"

This time, Kurt really did stand. He got to his feet quickly and backed away from the piano table. "No," he said quickly. "What did I tell you? No – see, this is why I didn't want to sing, this is why I only wanted to play. You do this thing; you make this thing into something it isn't, even when I _tell_ you outright that singing is all I'm doing."

"You can't be serious," Jordan said, standing up in turn and taking a step toward Kurt. "Did you just hear yourself?"

"Stop it," Kurt said sharply. "Just _stop it_. Jordan…I can't explain everything, but I'm with Blaine now and nothing else should matter. You're being –"

"Realistic?"

"_Delusional_," Kurt finished strongly, the harsh word almost making Jordan rock back on his heels. "I told you: I was just helping you practice. That's it." He struggled to get his crutches under his arms and turned to exit the room, walking quickly in hopes of still catching his bus.

Jordan sat back against the piano as he watched Kurt leave the room. He looked around himself self-consciously, though he knew that there was no one else in the room. Kurt's words couldn't convince him; he'd spent too much time denying his feelings for his words to have been truthful. He wasn't blind, and Kurt may be with Blaine, as he said, but he wasn't suddenly immune to Jordan.

He would snag a win for the Warblers at Regionals, Jordan decided. Kurt would be so impressed that he would have no choice but to realize who he was supposed to be with. As he stood and gathered his bag and music, Jordan was feeling better and better about his plan. There was no way that Kurt could refute his feelings after that. No way.

* * *

_Music of the Night - the Phantom (The Phantom of the Opera)_

_Is It Any Wonder? - Keane_

_Come On Get Higher - Matt Nathanson_

* * *

Next time: The day of the Regional competition finally comes, and the Warblers hit an unexpected snag in the eleventh hour.


	17. Chapter 17 :: Rebel Yell

_A/N: I finally have another chapter update for you guys! Yay! Sorry about the wait - I started another multi-chapter Klaine fic (shameless self-promotion!) and I wanted to get the first couple chapters of that out. It's called Prince Charming, and it's a world away from this fic; it takes place in the Early Middle Ages where Kurt is a prince in the Karofsky's court, and Blaine is a knight from a distant fief. Go check it out if you'd like!_

_Back to this story though, this is the Regionals chapter :) We're kind of nearing the final stretch of this story - I would expect it to end somewhere just short of 25 chapters._

_Enjoy! :)_

* * *

SEVENTEEN:

Kurt found that he was writing off his actions an awful lot lately. As he walked farther and farther away from Jordan, his mind got more and more clear. Something became apparent to him: if he simply avoided singing with Jordan, he wouldn't have anything to feel bad for. Most of the time, he was able to think about his situation with perfect rationality. It was only when they started to sing, when Jordan's voice filled the room and Kurt imagined he was singing for him – it was only _then_ that he let himself slip wholly into moments of weakness.

Blaine didn't have to know, Kurt decided once again, especially since he had just resolved never to sing with Jordan again. He figured that this course of action would make the problem all but disappear.

The next couple days were completely filled with Warbler practices. During their free periods the boys practiced harmonies, and after school they practiced double hours. The group they were blessed with was filled with incredibly adept members, and by the time they reached the venue for Regionals that Friday the boys had perfected the background for the song Jordan and the Alcotts had finally agreed on.

In the end, Jordan hadn't picked the song he'd talked Kurt into singing with him. In fact, contrary to what he said Oliver and Bridgette had suggested, the song wasn't even modern; it was from the early eighties. Kurt had zero idea why Jordan picked it, besides that the risk an acapella group went to by taking it on would pay off if they succeeded with their rendition. Kurt was also beginning to think that Jordan took some sort of pleasure from singing songs that were implicitly, or not so implicitly, sexual.

The group stood together at the venue, preparing for the moment the first act would go on. By a random draw, Aural Intensity would go first, then the Warblers, then the New Directions.

Some of the Warblers had begun to pace nervously, and their twitchy actions were wearing on Jordan's last nerve. "Alright guys," he said. "Stand up." They stared blankly at him. "Stand up! Go on." Slowly, the Warblers began to get off of the chairs they had filled. "_You_ guys all being so nervous is making me nervous."

Kurt looked at him quizzically. Jordan didn't get nervous; was this him trying to be a good team leader? "We're going to practice one last time," he announced.

"But if people hear –"

"What can they do?" Jordan asked with a shrug. "The first glee club goes on within the quarter hour; it's too late for anyone to chance their playlists." He looked at the female director, whose husband was presently absent. "Mrs. Alcott? May we go ahead and practice one last time? Or should we wait for Mr. Alcott to arrive?"

"Oh go ahead, by all means," she said with a wave of the hand. "He had to work a little bit late. I just hope he doesn't miss your real performance." She still looked slightly worried, but she waved her hands again and the Warblers got into formation. "Go for it."

The Warbler's voices began to echo through the room they'd been assigned to. They occurred in quick, intricate pulses. The song really did challenge their abilities; they all knew that they could pull it off, and that a song like this, with Jordan singing lead, would lead them to Nationals. Soon, his voice rang out above their harmonies.

_Last night a little dancer came dancing to my door_

_Last night a little angel came pumping across my floor_

_She said, "Come on baby, I got a license for love_

_And if it expires, pray help from above."_

The Warblers backed his vocals with lively vigor, moving as they were supposed to. Their actions got more intense as the music and Jordan's voice did.

_In the midnight hour_

_She cried, "More, more, more"_

_With a rebel yell_

_She cried, "More, more, more"_

_In the midnight hour, babe_

"_More, more, more"_

_More, more, more_

The corners of many Warblers mouths drew up in smiles as Jordan paced in front of them, completely in character, as he often was while singing. Altogether, they realized that this performance was very _un_-acapellaish, which was what would result in first place being awarded to them.

_She don't like slavery, she won't sit and beg_

_When I'm tired and lonely, she sees me to bed_

_What set you free and brought you to me, babe?_

_What set you free? _

_I need you here by me, because…_

_In the midnight hour_

_She cried, "More, more, more"_

_With a rebel yell, _

_She cried, "More, more, more"_

_In the midnight hour, babe_

"_More, more, more"_

_With a rebel yell_

"_More, more, more"_

Jordan was completely submerged in his performance. In the short amount of time he had to prepare, he had watched copious amounts of live Billy Idol performances, studying his every move and vowing to replicate them at Regionals. Maybe it would shock the judges into giving them the trophy.

_He lives in his own heaven_

_Collects it to-go from the 7-Eleven_

_Well he's out all night to collect a fare_

_Just so long, just so long it don't mess up his hair_

_I walked the world with you babe_

_A thousand miles with you_

_I dried your tears of pain, babe_

_A million times for you_

Bridgette sat, nodding along and looking thoroughly pleased with the performance. She _was_ pleased with it, she didn't have to feign that emotion; she didn't doubt they could win.

Oliver had mysteriously missed practices before, but never performances. Bridgette, of course, knew where he was, but she always told the boys that he "couldn't get away from work". His occupation itself remained unclear to them.

Kurt assumed he just had a boring office job that didn't warrant talking about, but an office job didn't present such unpredictable hours. Those types of thoughts infiltrated the countertenor's head again as he sang, his own distinctive voice all but obscured by the other Warblers. Forcefully, he pushed his meandering thoughts from his mind and focused on the song.

_I'd sell my soul for you, babe_

_For money to burn with you_

_I'd give you all, and have none, babe_

_Just, just, just a, just a, to have you here by me_

_Because…_

_In the midnight hour_

_She cried, "More, more, more"_

_With a rebel yell_

_She cried, "More, more, more"_

_In the midnight hour, babe_

"_More, more, more"_

_With a rebel yell_

_She cried, "More, more, more"_

_More, more, more_

Before the Warbler had launched into the wrap-up verses, they were interrupted. A loud, slow clap came from the doorway, causing the group to whirl around. "Well," a female voice drawled. "As wildly inappropriate as that performance was, I lament the fact that you can't actually perform in front of this Ohio audience and shock them all into a coma."

Kurt gaped for several moments before stepping out of the crowd. "…Coach Sylvester?" He asked hesitantly.

She turned to look at him, surveying his state evenly. "Sweet Porcelain," she muttered. "Get into a fight over the last can of salon hair spray, did you?" Kurt gaped at her like a fish out of water.

"Excuse me," said Bridgette, walking up to the Coach. "I'm sure the judges would be interested to know that an opposing glee club coach is listening in on another's set list."

Only then did Sue allow herself to smirk. "I'm sure that isn't all they would be interested in hearing, Polly Pocket." Sue had something that looked like a single file folder clutched under her armpit. She took it out and flipped through the papers there.

Kurt's eyes got wide when he realized the first thing she held up: a playbill for The Ritz Theatre's recent production of _Chicago_. For a few moments, he couldn't figure out why she would present that but… Slowly, realization dawned on him. Suddenly, Kurt wanted to hit his head against something hard. How had he not _known?_

"I was frequenting state musical productions for young actors whom I could blackmail into quitting the stage and joining my glee club when I happened to see this little gem." With a twisting smile, she turned to Jordan. "Had you not already been working with one of my foes, we might have made a knock-out team, Jerry Orbach."

Jordan stared at her in disbelief. "Uh…who _are_ you? And it's Jordan, _Jordan Aaron._"

"I see no difference." She sniffed and turned back to Bridgette, opening the playbill to what Kurt assumed was the cast list. "Take a look, Polly. I bet you didn't know that your ruin could be written out in nine point font, huh?"

She smiled in triumph as Bridgette took the pamphlet, eyes growing wider as her eyes fixed on one particular name in the cast. Her head turned to Jordan and she shook it disbelievingly. "Why would you…Jordan, please tell me this name right here indicates someone who is _not_ you?"

Jordan shrugged, clearly not seeing the problem. "Yeah, so? I only put on shows on Friday nights and weekends. It didn't interfere with Warbler practice so I didn't think it was important to tell anyone." Bridgette put her head in her hands, clearly at a loss for words. Jordan's brow drew together. He was becoming more worried with each passing second. "Wait, why? What does this mean? What's wrong?"

"You're a paid performer," Kurt spoke up. "I should have realized. I mean, it happened to me last year, but that was with everyone. It didn't occur to me, since you're only one man." His gaze was traveling frantically between Sue, Bridgette, and Jordan. "If you're paid for performances…you're disqualified from competition."

The final word made the Warblers break out in frantic chatter. This couldn't be happening. They'd gone through that whole process, they'd voted Jordan as their lead singer, and they had practiced almost every hour in the past days for _nothing?_

"Wait," Jordan said, holding up his hand. "You're saying that I disqualified us from Regionals just because I was an actor in a musical?"

"Not all of you," Bridgette said, looking at him apologetically. "Just you."

Sue cleared her throat loudly, causing them all to turn. "I think my work here," she announced, "is done." Just like that, she left them in their disarray.

"So what now?" Jordan said, holding up his hands in exasperated surrender. "Blaine is disqualified from singing based on your own decree. Kurt has a peg leg." The countertenor scoffed indignantly.

"Someone else will have to sing," Mrs. Alcott said with a shrug. "Wes? David?"

The Warblers turned simultaneously to the two boys who would be the obvious fourth options. They both looked supremely uncomfortable.

"I..." Wes cut a look at David, and a moment of understanding visibly passed between them. He stood a little straighter. "Mrs. Alcott. I'm respectful of your decision, but above all else I want the Warblers to win this thing."

"Blaine should sing," David finished. "We all know it."

Bridgette looked around unsurely. "Boys, we set a rule. To not enforce it would be to not enforce the thought behind it. What happened –"

"Was one mistake," Jordan spoke up, the words sounding like they came from him more painfully than pulling teeth. "Blaine isn't stupid, he understands why you guys want to enforce your punishment – but this is about the team."

Bridgette assessed this input from the boy she knew could be considered Blaine's rival, finally turning to the ebony haired Warbler. "Blaine," she said. "Can you?"

He hesitated. "I…I don't know. I haven't worked on anything. I don't know the words to any solo well enough; the one I sang for the tryout isn't acceptable, I'm sure." He added on the last words sarcastically.

The team was silent for several moments, each member at a loss for what to do. In their silence, they heard singing voices coming from the stage. Aural Intensity had begun their number. Quickly, Blaine made a decision. "I don't know any solo well enough," he repeated. He turned to Kurt unexpectedly. "But we could do a duet."

Kurt gaped at him, almost more shocked then he had been at seeing Coach Sylvester show up unexpectedly. "My cast…I can't move around well."

"You won't need to," Blaine promised him, coming up and taking his hand. "We've got your back. You have an amazing voice, Kurt. Sing with me."

"It'll look strange for me to be up there…"

"Enough with the cast," Jordan burst out in exasperation. "God, you'd think you were maimed for life. That wheelchair kid in your old glee club does it, and he _is_ maimed for life."

Kurt's brow furrowed, and he briefly wondered how Jordan knew anything about the New Directions, but he didn't have time to worry over that for long. "What would we sing?" He asked Blaine finally.

"Yes! Yes, thank you." He leaned forward and kissed Kurt's cheek excitedly, making some of the other Warblers chuckle and Jordan look away in frustration. "Remember that movie marathon we had, just this week? We sang the duet like a million times."

"In my living room," Kurt pressed on. "Not on a stage. And if the judges don't want to hear show tunes, like Jordan said, they _really_ won't want to hear this."

"When did Jordan…never mind. Listen, Kurt, what other option do we have? We sound _good_ singing it, you know that."

Kurt smiled in spite of himself. "We always sound good together."

A voice cleared in the crowd and Kurt heard Jeff speak up. "As much as I'd like to keep watching this Lifetime movie, we're on in like five minutes. Can someone just make an executive decision?"

Kurt and Blaine exchanged one last glance. "Let's do it," Kurt said with a nod.

"Okay guys," Blaine said, sinking swiftly into the leader mode he so naturally filled. "I know we didn't practice this – literally at all – but backup won't be anything like in "Rebel Yell". It's clean, simple and super easy to pick up."

An event manager interrupted them to hurry them to the stage; they were on right now. Blaine continued spouting instructions as the group walked to the stage. "I'm almost confident you've all heard it before so it won't be too hard. I'll sing the first part and Kurt will sing the second. My first two verses don't need any back up at all. I'll be singing alone. When you come in at the chorus, that's when you should come out onto the stage. Got it?" The group nodded. "Alright – you guys will come in from stage left, so Kurt and I will come from the right to balance it out." With a last nod at the Warblers, he and Kurt proceeded around the back of the stage.

Kurt's crutches thumped against the ground as they walked. He would leave them off stage during the performance, which meant that all of his movements would have to be done on his cast directly. It wasn't as painful as it used to be, but it was still immensely awkward.

"Do you think we can pull this off?" Kurt asked.

"Honestly? I have no idea," Blaine confessed. "I hate it when they all look at me like I have all the answers in the world."

"You haven't disappointed them before," Kurt said sweetly, stopping with Blaine at the edge of the stage and setting his crutches aside. He could hear the announcer starting to talk, beginning their introduction.

He reached out and grabbed one of Blaine's hands in his. "Well," he amended. "You haven't disappointed me. And you won't now." He leaned down to press his lips to Blaine's strongly but briefly, smiling confidently as he drew back. The announcer finished the short introduction to smattering applause. "I think that's your cue, Blaine Warbler."

"I think you're right." He returned Kurt's smile. "We'll do amazing." With that promise, he walked onto the stage.

With no warning, Blaine's pure, beautiful, unaccompanied voice projected through the hall.

_In a perfect world_

_One we've never known_

_We would never need to face the world alone_

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't sound unpracticed at all. Those flirty impromptu duets during Disney movies _did_ pay off then. He looked straight across the stage to the Warblers, who were beginning to smile. Several of them caught Kurt's eye and winked or nodded.

_They can have the world_

_We'll create our own_

_I may not be brave, or strong, or smart_

_But somewhere in my secret heart_

Just as Blaine had instructed, the Warblers began to pour out from backstage. They cooed and crooned softly in perfect harmony, impressing even Kurt, who was one of them.

_I know_

_Love will find a way_

_Anywhere I go, I'm home _

_If you are there beside me_

Kurt looked across the stage again, at the two people who remained off stage. Jordan was leaning against something, looking grudgingly impressed, which made Kurt want to chuckle and hit him at the same time. Bridgette was standing a few feet away, beaming at her students. Fleetingly, Kurt once again wondered what would have kept Oliver from being at their performance.

_Like dark turning into day_

_Somehow we'll come through_

_Now that I've found you_

_Love will find a way_

Blaine turned toward Kurt, holding his hands outstretched. Even from offstage, he could see the audience begin to crane their necks to see who would make an entrance next. Grinning in spite of himself, yet still feeling horribly self-conscious about his cast, Kurt stepped out onto the stage. He tried to tread gently, making his voice carry above any sound his cast would make on the stage.

_I was so afraid_

_Now I realize_

_Love is never wrong_

_And so it never dies_

He was slowly making his way to Blaine, trying not to look awkward or misplaced. Really, it was easy to feel like he was where he was supposed to be. The way that Blaine was looking at him made Kurt want to do something extreme, like run and jump into his arms so they could sail away on a sunset. But he reeled in his crazy imagination. This was a performance.

Even so, it was not difficult to sing from his heart.

_There's a perfect world_

_Shining in your eyes_

He had reached Blaine and his hand reached out to caress his boyfriend's cheek before he could help himself. Only then did Kurt realize that they were two boys in front of hundreds of people…singing a love song; this time those people were _not_ other gays, like they had been when he and Blaine had sung _The Phantom of the Opera. _ If he had thought that first duet was pushing the envelope, then he couldn't verbalize what this was.

Next, their voices rose together, intertwining perfectly. The Warblers synchronized voices still hummed perfectly in the background.

_And if only they could feel it too_

_The happiness I feel with you_

_They'd know_

_Love will find a way_

_Anywhere we go, we're home_

_If we are there together_

Blaine's face broke into a smile. His hand slid down to grasp Kurt's, and he lifted it upward. He pressed it to his lips in exactly the same manner he had when the duo had sung as Raoul and Christine from _The Phantom of the Opera_. The action made Kurt's heart leap, and he could feel himself smiling like a moron. It was almost all he could do to keep himself from wrapping his boyfriend – _his boyfriend_ – up in his arms right there. Only the thought that the Ohio audience was probably close enough to mass coronary failure already stopped him.

In preparation for the last verse, the Warblers stepped closer to the audience, closing in their formation. Kurt had no idea how they'd coordinated the action, but it defiantly worked.

_Like dark turning into day_

_Somehow we'll come through_

_Now that I've found you_

_Love will find a way_

_I know love will find a way_

Their voices faded away, soon followed by the rest of the Warblers. Slowly at first but quickly growing stronger and louder, the hall burst into applause, a few people even standing up. The fact that they were mostly Kurt's peers from McKinley was of secondary importance.

The Warblers converged on Kurt and Blaine in a cheering mass, hugging them, congratulating them, and patting them on the back. Kurt accepted all their words and cheers with a smile while trying to stay steady on his cast – they were making it rather difficult.

Still laughing – their excitement was infectious – Kurt backed away from the group on the pretense of retrieving his crutches. Shaking his head, he hobbled to the side of the stage. He grabbed his crutches and watched as the Warblers exited on the other side, ushered offstage quickly by the host so the New Directions could prepare to perform.

"Well, you were lovely, as usual," said a voice that was all too close to his ear.

Kurt almost jumped out of his skin, but thankfully refrained from squealing in surprise. "Jordan," Kurt said in an accusatory tone, breathless from that jolt of shock. He began making his way across the back of the stage to where the other Warblers had gone off to. "Make a noise next time. Honestly, you were quieter than a –"

"Phantom?" He supplied helpfully, with a cocky grin.

Kurt frowned. "Ghost," he finished firmly, face softening only when he realized that it should have been Jordan who just finished singing, not him. "Listen, Jordan…I honestly didn't mean for this to happen. I do blame myself though; I should have known, should have put two and two together and warned you. I'm an idiot."

"Maybe a little bit," Jordan agreed, making Kurt's brow furrow. He wasn't supposed to _agree_. He was supposed to reassure him that it was anyone's mistake. "And I can't say that I was all that fond of the alternative." His eyes cut over to the group they were approaching, where Wes and David had each grabbed onto one of Blaine's arms and were play-fighting over him. Leaving the other Warblers, the sapphire orbs moved to his side and fixed on Kurt. "But I was serious when I said that you performed beautifully. I could watch you sing for…days."

"Well that…isn't creepy at all, Jordan," Kurt said awkwardly, feeling a flush climb up his cheeks. He cleared his throat self-consciously. "Can you not say stuff like that?" He asked quietly, avoiding Jordan's gaze. "I don't know how you expect me to respond. You know I can't…you know that I'm with Blaine?"

"Why did you sing with me?" Jordan interrupted him quickly. "If you're so sure, why did you do it?"

"You asked," Kurt responded bluntly, finally able to turn his face upward and meet Jordan's eyes. "I never could help but see the best in people, even when it's fabricated." He saw Jordan's self-assured mask flicker momentarily, and for that moment Kurt wished he hadn't spoken so soon. But it was back in place just as quickly, as if it had never happened at all, and its disappearance was accompanied by that of Kurt's regret. If anything, his point was just proven. "I've told you I'm sure; I hope you can find it somewhere in yourself to respect that." He didn't wait for Jordan's reaction before turning around and crutching his way toward the group.

Still being fought over by Wes and David, Blaine partially turned his head at the distinctive noise and glimpsed Kurt approaching. His face broke out in a large smile and he wrestled himself away from the two older boys in order to make his way toward Kurt.

"We should go down to the seats," Kurt began. A fuzzy heat erupted in his stomach, and his own mouth twisted into a grin as he saw the goofy smile plastered across Blaine's face. "So we can watch the New –"

Kurt had expected Blaine to stop a few feet in front of him, and maybe take his hand, but the other Warbler didn't stop moving forward. He'd begun swiftly walking toward Kurt the moment he had glimpsed him, closing the distance with surprisingly long strides. In front of everyone – Bridgette, Jordan, and the rest of the Warblers – he walked straight up to Kurt and leaned up, their lips connecting with the force of the motion of both parties moving toward one another.

Blaine's right hand had risen to the side of Kurt's face, cradling the curve of his jaw and drawing their kiss deeper. For a moment, Kurt was too shocked to do anything; he and Blaine, despite being obviously more affectionate toward one another of late as shown through their brief touches and long looks, had never exhibited any public displays of affection more explicit than hand holding, or the brief kiss on the cheek Blaine had given him before the performance. But he'd just sung at Regionals with Blaine; he'd just sung a duet about love with his boyfriend in front of hundreds of Ohioans, including his friends from Lima; now, Blaine was kissing him joyfully – he could feel the shorter boy's lips turn into a smile as they moved against his. It didn't take long for Kurt to seize the moment and return the kiss, leaning into Blaine's embrace.

It also didn't take long for the rest of the Warblers to respond. Jeff pounded a hand against Nick's back repeatedly, bouncing up and down on his toes excitedly. Wes reached over and gave David's arm a little shake, grinning widely when his friend turned toward him. Bridgette had to cover her smile with a hand to hide how wide it had grown. Someone whistled out a catcall and soon almost all of the Warblers were engaging in some manner of hooting or hollering.

All except one. Jordan had watched Kurt walk away, his head buzzing. Everything had gone all wrong – Regionals had been his chance and it had been snatched away from under his nose. He had been looking _forward_ to leading the team to a win, not only for Kurt – though it was mostly for him – but also to prove himself to everyone.

But he had watching Kurt was away, which was exactly contrary to the plan, and then watched Blaine approach him and kiss him in front of everybody. Worst of all, Kurt had responded as if he'd completely forgotten he'd been talking to Jordan only seconds before.

Fighting a strange emotion that was rising within him, Jordan turned on the spot and began to walk away. At the door which led off of the backstage and into the hall, Jordan paused, almost looking back. His shoulders were tensed and he was ready to turn around and go back to the Warblers. He was ready for someone to call out and stop him as he left. But no one did – for all he knew, Kurt didn't even notice that he'd left.

"Third place goes to…_Aural Intensity_." The announcer called out the third place to a round of polite applause.

"You're cutting off the circulation in my hand," Blaine whispered to Kurt, who had tightened his grasp on Blaine's hand when the third place team was read. "Whatever is meant to happen will happen."

Kurt smiled at Blaine gratefully. Whatever happened _did_ happen but that didn't mean he wanted to win any less. He knew he shouldn't be getting his hopes up. Regionals had been one big disaster from the beginning. Their song had been haphazard and thrown together; it wasn't nearly as intricate and demanding as the one they had been planning on singing. Now, if they had only done Jordan's song…

As that thought entered his mind, Kurt glanced quickly around the assembled Warblers. He didn't see the older boy near. Perhaps he was offstage; it would make sense, as he hadn't been part of the performance.

"And taking first place in the 2011 Regionals competition…" Kurt's thoughts were pulled from their wanderings by the sound of the announcer. He felt Blaine squeeze his hand reassuringly, and one of the Warblers behind him had reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "The New Directions!"

For a moment, Kurt's smile lingered on his face, the news not registering. His grip slackened on Blaine's hand and his face fell, disappointment setting in. They hadn't won – they were out of the competition, and the New Directions were the ones going to Nationals.

"Hey," Blaine's voice came as a whisper near his ear. Kurt felt his arm circle around his shoulders. "I won't tell you not to be disappointed, but we have one more shot at this, yeah? At next year's competition." Kurt turned to look at Blaine, who was smiling widely – Kurt was sure that it was solely for his benefit, there was no possible way that emotion was genuine. "And second place isn't too bad for putting this whole thing together at the last minute – for all of the Warblers having to adlib everything."

Kurt was silent for a moment. "You're right," he agreed finally. He turned slightly in Blaine's arms, to face the rest of the Warblers so they could hear his next words. "Next year though? This trophy is ours." There was a resounding murmur of agreement before they broke off to shake hands with the other glee clubs.

* * *

_Rebel Yell - Billy Idol_

_Love Will Find A Way - Kovu and Kiara (The Lion King 2: Simba's Pride)_

* * *

Next time: Despite the fact that the Warblers have lost the Regionals competition, everything has returned remarkably back to normal. They've begun to book performances at nursing homes and theme parks once again, and most notably: Jordan seems to be respecting Kurt's request that he should respect his new relationship. Everything is proceeding swimmingly, but how will Cayden Anderson's return to polite society stir the waters?


	18. Chapter 18 :: Moondance

_A/N: Sorry for the long wait! End of the quarter means hectic times! _

_This thing keeps happening where I'll make a plan for a chapter and the characters will get carried away and add their own scenes - this chapter consists of two scenes, the second of which was not planned at all - making the chapter crazy long and I decide to chop it up. For that reason, the "next time" at the end of the last chapter really doesn't apply. Bah, that's what I get! Consider it as a next-next time. This is probably a third of my original intention for Chapter 18, but I wanted it to get published for you guys :) It turned out to be a bit of a filler but it ends up being important, I promise! But it's for this reason that I can't predict exactly how long this fic will be. If I had to make a best guess, I would say somewhere at or just short of 25 chapters but that's a super loose estimate._

_By the way, I totally flailed when Kurt and Rachel got busted by the guard for breaking into the theatre in the Glee finale :) Totally. Flailed. I was adjasdjkjsdajk'ing like a proper fangirl, I probably embarrassed myself because no one I was around has any idea about this fic XD_

_Ayways, enjoy!_

* * *

EIGHTEEN:

"Maybe not going to Nationals won't be so awful," Blaine said absently, voice distant and eyes closed. It was Saturday evening and they were together on Kurt's bed, simply relaxing. Kurt sat against his headboard and Blaine lay with his head propped up on Kurt's thighs. The former was reading a book, hand travelling down to fiddle with Blaine's loose curls absently between flipping the pages. The latter wasn't doing much of anything, besides daydreaming and reveling at the feeling of his boyfriend's hand in his hair.

"We can stop talking about this," Kurt said blandly, eyes flicking from the page to briefly look at Blaine. "It's been two weeks, and honestly I do _not_ see how losing that competition was anything but awful."

"Do you realize how much we would have had to practice?" Blaine asked him, turning onto his stomach and resting his chin against Kurt's thigh. "We wouldn't have had time for anything else. We sure wouldn't be able to do anything like this."

"That's the point," Kurt said, turning the page in his book. "Having something to work towards – something you need to fight to win…that's what makes it exhilarating."

Blaine made an indecisive noise and flipped back onto his back, returning to his first position. "I still think it isn't all bad."

Kurt didn't see the validity of Blaine's argument, especially when putting himself in the other boy's shoes. His father would be released in six days; Kurt would have thought that the rigor of an impending Nationals competition might have been a good thing to keep Blaine's mind off of that fact. He didn't voice those opinions out loud.

"I'm bored," Blaine complained, sprawling his limbs.

"I told you that you would be," Kurt said with a chuckle. "But you insisted on coming over anyways."

"Because I thought I could persuade you into doing something fun!"

"Like?"

After a moment of silence, Kurt looked down at Blaine to see what was preventing his answer. Blaine's lips had twisted into a sly smirk and his eyes twinkled up at Kurt mischievously. "Oh, I don't know," he said innocently. "There are lots of fun things to do."

Kurt raised a knowing eyebrow and carefully set his book aside. He was wholly convinced that his concentration would be totally shot if things were going where he thought they were going. He cleared his throat and looked at Blaine expectantly. The other boy remained still, his head on Kurt's leg, blinking at the countertenor innocently.

Wicked plan forming his mind, Kurt bent down over Blaine. He smiled slyly as the other boy's eyelashes fluttered closed and his lips parted expectantly. Kurt hovered over them tauntingly. "Blaine?" He whispered, his voice light and breathy.

"Mmm?"

"You're putting my foot to sleep." That part, at least, was true. It just so happened that it would also be a fun means of teasing the other Warbler.

Sure enough, Blaine's eyes flew open and he looked at Kurt incredulously. "You…_what_?"

"It wants free air!" Kurt exclaimed as Blaine sat up and freed Kurt's leg. The countertenor wiggled his cast-free toes. "It's been cooped up longer than Pavarotti; it doesn't remember how to circulate properly."

"Kurt," Blaine warned knowingly. He had begun to grin and he'd needed to look away to keep from laughing as Kurt wiggled his toes around like a little kid. Recovering, Blaine adopted puppy eyes and trained them on his boyfriend. "Kurt," he repeated, this time with a hint of a whine in his voice. He pushed out his bottom lip in a pout and frinkled his brow.

"Oh no, no, no," Kurt said, shaking his head and tucking his legs up underneath him. "Blaine, don't do they puppy face – don't do the puppy face!"

"But _Kuuuuuuuuuurt_," he drawled, blinking his widened eyes at the other. He sniffed dramatically and looked to the side tragically.

Kurt grumbled to himself. How had this turned around so quickly? He was supposed to be the one teasing Blaine, not the other way around. He wasn't supposed to be at the mercy of Blaine's amber eyes. "Aw," he crooned, the last of his resolve cracking as he crawled over to Blaine. "Is the puppy sad?" Blaine nodded, keeping his bottom lip out in a pout. "Well, what can I do make it better?"

"Mmm," Blaine made a pensive humming sound, ending in a shrug. He had a smug, self-satisfied look on his face.

Kurt looked sideways quickly, making sure his door was closed. Reassured that it was, he turned back to Blaine. "Maybe this?" He leaned forward quickly, pressing his lips to Blaine's pouty bottom lip. He drew back a fraction of the space he'd leaned forward. "Maybe…this?" He kissed Blaine's bottom lip again. This time, after a moment, he opened his mouth to deepen their kiss, sucking at Blaine's lip lightly as he pulled away again.

"Better?" Kurt asked pleasantly, lacing his hands together behind Blaine's neck.

"Much," Blaine answered breathlessly, already leaning toward Kurt again. He met his lips with a sigh; his hands reached up to bunch in the front of his shirt and pull them closer together. He pushed back on Kurt's chest and they fell back together on the mattress.

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine and held him tightly to his chest. He felt a heat building in his stomach, a feeling that grew more extreme as he felt Blaine nip lightly at his lip, soliciting a breathless gasp from Kurt. Unable to take it anymore, Kurt flipped Blaine around so he was on his back. His hands slid to the hem of Blaine's shirt, dragging the edge up the expanse of his chest.

Tauntingly, he trailed his fingers up Blaine's bare stomach. Kurt grinned mischievously as Blaine let out a quiet moan, head pressing back into the pillows. Kurt lowered his head to draw out a long, sweet kiss before sliding the shirt off and tossing it away.

Blaine could feel the temperature rising in his face as Kurt removed his shirt. Suddenly, his pants were feeling uncomfortably tight and he was sure that his temperature had raised enough to light a match should it come near him. Kurt swung a leg over his waist and sat straddling him.

Blaine was in ecstatic agony at the feeling that coursed through him as Kurt ran his hands up his bare sides, from his hipbones to his pectorals. "Kurt," he said breathlessly, grabbing the other boy's shirt and pulling him down so their lips could meet once again. "This…isn't…fair," he said in between heavy breaths. His hands traveled to Kurt's top button as the countertenor traced his lips down the side of Blaine's neck until he reached his collarbone. He sucked at the sensitive skin of Blaine's lower neck sharply, drawing a jagged moan from him, louder than the previous one.

He'd worked his way through half the buttons, but it was getting more difficult. His mind kept swimming in and out of focus. Through the position they were in, Blaine could feel that Kurt was as turned on as he was and it was _incredibly_ distracting.

"Life isn't fair," Kurt muttered with equal breathlessness. His voice rough and lower than usual and it sent a thrill through Blaine's entire body. "Blaine –"

A sharp knocking came at the door, quickly followed by squeaking hinges. Shock shooting through both Warblers, they sprang apart. Panicking, Kurt shoved Blaine and quickly motioned for him to roll off of the bed and hide underneath it.

Clarity had returned to Blaine along with the sharp noise. He rolled out from under Kurt and stumbled off the bed only to quickly dive under it.

Not a moment too soon either, for Finn opened the door at that very moment. Kurt attempted to cross his legs in both a non-conspicuous and non-revealing manner. His hands fumbled uselessly with his unbuttoned shirt, shaking fingers making zero progress on the buttons.

Finn stared at him, gaping. He took in Kurt's beet-red face and his hair that was sticking up in all directions. "Oh shit!" he exclaimed, looking genuinely shocked. "I…uh, mom just sent me up here to tell you that dinner was ready. Were you…uh, are you alone? No – shit! Don't answer that! I…yeah. Holy shit, I'm sorry. I should have knocked. Wow…yeah."

"N-n-no," Kurt stuttered, wanting to hide his face in a pillow. "I – I…uh, dinner right. I'll be down – yup. Dinner."

Finn nodded quickly, his own face filling with color. Kurt noticed the moment that his eyes fixed to one object specifically. Kurt followed his gaze to the side of his own bed, where Blaine's shirt dangled from Kurt's bedside lamp.

"Oh," Finn said slowly, realization dawning. "Oh!" If anything, Kurt thought he looked a bit relieved. "Yeah, Blaine can come to dinner too. Hi, Blaine."

Silence. Until… "Er, hi…Finn." Blaine's voice came from under Kurt's bed.

Kurt didn't think his face could get any redder. Unable to hold himself up any longer, he flopped face-first onto his blankets hopelessly.

"Dinner can probably wait for a cold shower," Finn advised before turning to retreat downstairs. "You look like you just ran ten marathons or something."

"Finn…go away," Kurt ordered, voice muffled in the blankets.

"Yeah, yeah," the tall teen said. "I expect you to be downstairs in five minutes." He exited, closing the door on his way out.

"Could have been worse," Blaine said after a moment of silence, exiting from under the bed and retrieving his tell-tale shirt.

"How?" Kurt's face was still buried in the blankets. "That was humiliating. He thought –"

"Could have been your dad," Blaine supplied, shocking Kurt into silence.

"You're right," he agreed, turning his face back to the room. He pushed his hair away from his overheated forehead and fanned his face briefly. "Because then you'd probably be dead."

"Ah, there's the bright side," Blaine said amiably, leaning forward to kiss Kurt's forehead. He slipped his shirt back on and stood. "This way there can still be a part two later…" He walked toward the doorway, dodging the pillow that Kurt threw at him on his way.

"How do you look so chipper?" Kurt asked accusingly. "Like you didn't just…like you aren't…"

"Didn't just what?" He asked with a teasing grin, tilting his head. "Well, you know, shock can do a lot to kill a mood."

"…Two minutes," Kurt said, still looking flustered. He grabbed a towel and crossed his room to the bathroom where he quickly turned on the water, leaving Blaine chuckling in his wake.

* * *

After dinner, Kurt and Blaine excused themselves from the Hudson-Hummel residence in favor of the crisp spring night outside. Ever since getting his cast off, Kurt seemed to relish walking whenever he could.

Hands interlocked, the two made their way down the sidewalks of Lima, ending up at the park.

"Full moon?" Kurt asked, looking up at the sky. "And no clouds to speak of. Did you call in earlier to order one perfect night?"

"Damn, you caught me," Blaine said with a grin, squeezing his hand. They meandered over to the deserted play structure and sat on the swings in unspoken agreement, hands still clasped.

"Well, it's beautiful," Kurt said in a whisper, his blue eyes still looking upward.

Blaine, however, was only looking at Kurt. "You're beautiful," he told him, eyes absorbing the way the moonbeams danced across Kurt's features.

The countertenor looked over at Blaine, smiling almost shyly. "Well, I don't know about that..."

"I do," Blaine replied pleasantly, pushing with his legs so the swing began to move gently. He was silent for a moment before a smile slid across his face as a movie scene abruptly entered his mind. He was nothing if not a hopeless romantic. "What is it you want, Kurt?" He asked, mimicking the scene which he'd seen so many times.

Kurt looked at him strangely for a moment but his expression quickly changed when he realized what Blaine was doing. "You want the moon?" Blaine continued, his smile wide. "Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey, that's a pretty good idea! I'll give you the moon, Kurt."

Kurt looked down briefly and even in the moonlight Blaine could see the faint color that rose on his cheeks. "I'll take it," he said with a nod. Blaine felt Kurt's thumb begin to stroke the back of his hand. "Then what?"

"Well," Blaine continued, glad that Kurt was playing along. "Then you can swallow it, and it'll all dissolve, see. And the moonbeams would shoot out of your fingers and your toes and the ends of your hair."

Kurt hopped off of his swing, letting go of Blaine's hand. He positioned himself in front of Blaine so that when the shorter boy swung forward, their lips met briefly. "Kurt Hummel, why in the world did you ever pick a guy like me?" Blaine asked with a grin. It was quickly becoming a playful game to see if Kurt knew the lines as well as he did.

"To keep you from being an old maid," Kurt said, kissing Blaine again on his forward swing.

"You could have chosen anybody else in town…"

"I don't want anybody else in town," Kurt answered with a grin and a little shake of his head.

Blaine hopped off his swing and fell straight into a jog, grabbing Kurt's hand as he passed. "Blaine," Kurt said, giggling. "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer until they reached the flat expanse of grass. "Kurt Hummel," Blaine said seriously, holding one of his hands in both of his own. "May I have this dance?"

Kurt looked around automatically for the people who would be staring judgmentally before realizing that they were alone. It was night in the park, with the full moon shining down, and there was no one there to judge them. Even so, he felt self-conscious in a way he knew he shouldn't have. "There isn't any music," he said finally. It wasn't an acceptance and it wasn't a refusal.

"We can invent the music," Blaine said, self-assured smile never leaving his face.

Hesitantly, Kurt nodded. "Alright…"

Grinning wider, Blaine put a hand on Kurt's waist and Kurt moved his to Blaine's shoulder. He started to move his feet, leading Kurt in the dance. "Blaine?"

"Hmm?"

"The music?"

"Oh!" He exclaimed, flushing slightly. "Right…let's see." He wracked his brain for something to sing. It had been an offhand statement and he hadn't been totally positive that Kurt would accept let alone actually want the music. Like a bolt of lightning, the perfect song occurred to him in a flash, and he begun to sing softly as he lead Kurt in their moonlit dance.

_Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance_

_With the stars up above in your eyes_

_A fantabulous night to make romance_

'_Neath the cover of October skies_

Kurt could feel an abnormally large smile stretching across his face. He felt like he was on a different planet entirely. He felt light, like he weighed nothing at all, like he and Blaine could float off at a moment's notice. He couldn't look away from Blaine as he sung – as he was sung to. Perfect wouldn't have been an understatement.

_And all the leaves on the trees are falling_

_To the sound of the breezes that blow_

_And I'm trying to please to the calling_

_Of your heart-strings that play soft and low_

Blaine wasn't sure what had possessed him and made him tug Kurt out into the grass but he was glad that something had momentarily seized control of his brain. He was glad that he had Kurt all to himself. He was glad that if he wanted to, he could stop singing and lean over to kiss him and Kurt would most likely kiss him back. He had him, for the lack of a better word, and the fact that his father would be returning to their house in less than a week had never been farther from Blaine's mind. That didn't matter, not really. When he was with Kurt, nothing beyond them mattered at all.

_And all the night's magic_

_Seems to whisper and hush_

_And the soft moonlight_

_Seems to shine in your blush_

_Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?_

_Can I just make some more romance with you, my love?_

Kurt let out a little squeal as Blaine suddenly changed their slow rocking dance into something faster and more akin to a swing dance. He spun Kurt around and caught him fast in his arms again, never missing a beat. He had to admit it to himself, Kurt was impressed.

_Well, I wanna make love to you tonight_

_I can't wait til the morning has come_

_And I know that the time is just right_

_And straight into my arms you will run_

_And when you come my heart will be waiting_

_To make sure that you're never alone_

_There and then all my dreams will come true, dear_

_There and then I will make you my own_

Blaine twirled Kurt around again their feet were moving rapidly over the grass. His voice had gotten louder but it hardly mattered; no one was there to hear.

_Any time I touch you_

_You just tremble inside_

_And I know how much you want me_

_That you can't hide_

_Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?_

_Can I just make some more romance with you, my love?_

"Blaine!" Kurt laughed as Blaine dipped him slightly. Grinning, Blaine ducked down and pressed his lips to Kurt's neck. Kurt, caught off his guard, let out a little yelp and wiggled in Blaine's grasp.

"Kurt!" Blaine called out his warning a fraction of a second before he lost his balance and fell to the ground, taking Kurt with him. They let out a collective "oof" but had thankfully been on the fluffy grass. "I can't believe it!" Blaine exclaimed, rolling over to see if Kurt was alright. "I – I dropped you… I can't believe it – I'm sorry!"

But when Kurt rolled toward him, Blaine could see that he was laughing. He laid his head back on the grass until he had caught his breath and by the time he had, Blaine was chuckling along with him. Kurt rolled onto his side so that he could gain a better view of Blaine's face. The shorter boy was lying on his back and the moon cast his features into sharp relief.

Blaine opened his arms as Kurt moved to his side immediately. The countertenor snuggled up to him and rested his head against Blaine's shoulder as he wrapped his arm around Kurt tightly. Blaine looked up at the moon briefly before shutting his eyes. He wanted to capture this moment. He wanted not only the sights but also the sounds and the smells to be imprinted in his memory forever. Because this was surely as close to perfect as life could get.

Kurt buried his nose into the fabric of Blaine's shirt and breathed in the scent of his boyfriend. His arm snaked across Blaine's chest and he pressed his cheek into Blaine's shoulder so that he could simply stare at the other boy – his full lips and long eyelashes. When Blaine opened his eyes briefly, Kurt merely smiled, not feeling the need to fill space with conversation. After a moment Blaine smiled in return and closed his eyes once more but Kurt didn't look away.

Suddenly, he thought with complete clarity that this must be what love felt like.

* * *

_Moondance - Van Morrison_


	19. Chapter 19 :: Lost

_A/N: Ay, I apologize for the totally unpredictable fic updates. See, I took so long last time but muse punched me in the face a few hours ago and this whole next chapter just came super quickly. But that's only for the better, I guess! It's a relatively small chapter when compared to some of the others but it's muy importante! _

_Also, some people have left comments about having read the whole story through without stopping and I just have to say: WHOA. I commend you and your resolve. I myself am rereading the whole thing, checking for errors I missed the first time around (there are lots - yikes!) and I never realized how MUCH story there was until I set about that task. So wow, yeah, if you've read this far straight through I am immensely flattered. Mystified certainly, but also flattered! :3_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

NINETEEN:

When Kurt and Blaine got back from their excursion through the park, it was late. Much too late for Blaine to drive all the way back to Westerville, Kurt told Burt with an innocent expression. Grudgingly, and with more than a little encouragement from Carole, Burt had caved and allowed Blaine to sleep on the couch downstairs.

Unbeknownst to him, Kurt tiptoed out of his room when he had heard the voices in the master bedroom cease and the light go out. He descended the stairs and curled up next to Blaine's side on the couch, where he promptly and peacefully fell asleep.

* * *

Like the last time Blaine had woken up at the Hudson-Hummel residence, an occurrence Burt was still ignorant of, he left in the morning for Westerville and got to his home at noon. He opened the door to his large house and shut it quietly behind him. He'd completely forgotten to call his mother last night. Hopefully she had been away and hadn't noticed his absence.

However, when he turned around, the petite woman was leaning against the doorframe leading to the living room, as if she'd materialized out of thin air. "Where have you been?"

"Mom," Blaine said breathlessly, pressing a hand to his chest to calm his heartbeat, which had skyrocketed at the surprise. "You scared me. I was…uh, I was at the Hummel's house. They let me stay for dinner and didn't want me driving back here in the dark so I slept on the couch." It was only a small white lie.

"So," she said slowly. "You and the Hummel boy…Kurt. Are you together?" She looked up at him. All Blaine could identify in her gaze was curiosity.

"Yeah, mom," he said softly. A large grin spread across his face as he thought of Kurt. The countertenor had been on the couch when he'd woken up that morning; sometime during the night he'd snuck downstairs, and Blaine had been able to observe his sleeping form for a while before he woke.

Blaine's mother smiled in response to her son's grin, a reaction that he hadn't been expecting but was expressly glad for. "I'm really happy, mom," he continued, spurred on by her response. "I think…well I don't know, but I sort of think we're perfect. I mean, I can relate to what he's been through and he can relate to me, to a degree. We just _get_ each other, and I forget about all the bad things that have happened when I'm with him. And I just –" Blaine paused, flushing suddenly. "And I'm just babbling, sorry. You should have stopped me, I get carried away."

"I'm happy that you're happy," his mother told him, laying a gentle hand on his arm. "Really, I am." She took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh. Slowly, the smile vanished from Blaine's face. "We just…have to think about more things than we used to. You know what happens this Friday."

Blaine looked away. "I know."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nope," Blaine said shortly, arms circling around his frame as he brushed past his mother and toward his room. To his dismay, she followed him.

"Things will be different now," she insisted. "They didn't just lock him up for this past month, he's been learning how to get better." Blaine was silent as he kept walking up the stairs. "But…Blaine, stop and listen to me." She reached out and grabbed his shoulder, causing him to freeze immediately – a frightened instinct. "They sent him to get better but neither you nor I have seen him in a long time."

"A month isn't a long time," Blaine muttered, arms still wrapped around his body tightly. "It isn't long at all."

"I'm just saying that you should lie as low as possible for a little while." Blaine didn't speak. "You can't do things like this anymore, Blaine – sleeping over at the Hummel's house. You know the first time you did that was the first time he really –"

"No, it wasn't the first time he really anything," Blaine said quickly. "He'd been doing it long before then; he just had an excuse after that."

"And you shouldn't give them to him," his mother combatted.

"_Why_ are you sticking up for him?" Blaine beseeched her, meeting her eyes for the first time. "I'm your son…shouldn't you be on my side?"

"I am on your side," she said quietly. "I love you – I'm always on your side. That's why I'm telling you this." With her next words, the point she had been leading up to, Blaine's heart sunk faster and farther than he'd thought was possible. "I think you should stop seeing Kurt."

Blaine stared at her with wide eyes before he shook his head. "No. I can't do that."

"Well I'm not asking," his mother said, her voice growing stronger.

"And _I'm_ not listening," Blaine shot back, caught up by the unfairness of it all. "You can't tell me to break up with Kurt. You _can't_. We're happy together."

"How happy will you be if he gets hurt again?"

Blaine paused. "You said that he was going to come back like he used to be," he said slowly.

His mother sighed, running a hand through her dark hair. "I'm just saying that I don't know anything for sure and it's better that we're safe rather than sorry."

"Are you even hearing yourself?" Blaine pleaded with her. "You aren't making any sense – you keep spouting contradictions. I can't give up Kurt for a chance. He means too much; he's too important to me."

"So you're willing to run the risk," she said levelly. "Maybe you don't remember what you two looked like after that night."

"Maybe _you_ don't remember that you didn't do anything but sit there!" Awa Anderson clamped her jaw shut tightly. Blaine returned her gaze fiercely, softening only when he saw the water collecting at the corner of her eyes. "Mom…I – I'm sorry. I know that you wouldn't have been able to do anything. I don't understand how any of this makes sense. If he's supposed to be better after this –"

"I just don't want to provoke anything that might be otherwise avoided," his mother said. "The last thing we need is a catalyst and the last thing you need is to see someone you care about get hurt." She backed up a step. "If you really love him, Blaine, like you seem to, then you'll do what's best."

She turned and proceeded to descend the stairs, leaving Blaine in a whirlwind of conflicted emotions that were quick to consume him.

* * *

Blaine was abrasive and pensive the rest of the week, and Kurt took notice of it. He tried to be extra sweet and considerate. He figured that the realization his father was free to re-enter their home that Friday had finally sunk in. He never guessed the real reason.

Kurt was resolved that he should not ask Blaine what was wrong. He didn't want to make the boy even more emotional. Instead, he continued to try to be considerate and understanding without confronting him directly.

He had lasted all the way to Friday afternoon, the afternoon that Blaine would get back to his house and likely see his father there. Kurt didn't want to proactively invite himself along but he would certainly not refuse of Blaine needed him for moral support. But the other boy was acting even more sullen and downtrodden than he had the entire week, compelling Kurt to finally confront him about it.

"You okay, Blaine?" He asked, reaching down to take the other boy's hand as they walked to the parking lot after class got out. The Warblers didn't practice on Fridays, and practices had been more intermittent since they lost Regionals, especially since one of their directors had a mysterious increase in his work hours. "I'm sure everything will be fine, and you can always call me if you need someone to talk to, you know that." He leaned over as they walked and briefly kissed Blaine's cheek. He told himself that it was his imagination when he thought Blaine momentarily stiffened.

"Actually no," Blaine said suddenly, voice sounding burdened with too much pent up emotion. "I have to talk to you about something. Can we talk…over there?" He pointed to a distant spot on the lawn, far away from the throngs of departing students and well out of hearing range.

They walked in silence but Kurt could feel him palm grow slightly clammy in Blaine's hand. He was getting nervous. "Blaine," Kurt said slowly, as the other Warbler stopped walking but failed to speak up. "What's wrong?"

Blaine didn't go on a lengthy preamble. He didn't lead into it with excuses. He launched straight into what he wanted to say, finding that if he beat around the bush he would chicken out of what he had to do. "You know that my dad's coming back today. I – I think, all considering, it might be for the best if we took some time away from each other."

Kurt looked at him blankly. "…What do you mean?"

Blaine looked up into Kurt's bright blue eyes, immediately finding that the action was a mistake. He looked wary but still disbelieving. He didn't believe that Blaine would ever do this. "I mean that…well." It was getting harder to say the words. "My mom thinks…no, I think…I just…I don't want you to get hurt."

"You don't want me to get hurt?" Kurt repeated. His eyes were growing overly bright with held back tears. Realizing that Blaine still held his hand, he drew it back into himself.

"I don't want anyone to hurt you," Blaine corrected. "To hurt you like…well, like my dad hurt you when he pushed you."

"Blaine," Kurt said, clearly distressed. His voice had grown thick with held back tears and he could feel burning emotion threatening to burst out of his chest. "W-what are you saying?"

"I think we should take a break." Blaine was trying his best to keep a straight face but he was failing miserably. His brows drew together and more than anything he wanted to reach out and take Kurt into his arms and take back everything he had said.

Kurt merely stared at him, blue eyes wide and disbelieving. How could those words be coming out of Blaine's mouth? How could he not know that after everything that had happened, they could always persevere _together_?

"I don't want you to be in any sort of bad situation because of me," Blaine explained quickly. "I don't want something like last time to happen again. I don't want you to be in any danger."

"What _danger_?" Kurt asked, holding out his hands in surrender. "I – I thought –"

Blaine suddenly realized that he sounded exactly like his mother had the weekend before. Did he really believe these things? Did he really believe that there was danger? More importantly, did he believe that Kurt was better off without him? He certainly didn't think that he would ever be better off without Kurt. "I don't know," Blaine said quickly, looking away.

"Blaine, this isn't you talking," Kurt said. "Why didn't you say any of this last weekend? You seemed happy…what happened since then?"

"I realized that I'd rather make a sacrifice than see you get put in danger's way again," Blaine told him. "If there's danger, if there isn't danger, I don't know. I really don't know. But you're too important to take a chance on. I can't chance you – ever." He faltered, hating every moment he spoke more and more. Disgusted with his own actions, Blaine turned away. "…Goodbye, Kurt."

Kurt gaped after his retreating form. This couldn't be happening. Blaine couldn't have broken up with him. Not after all he'd done to win him over, after everything they'd been through that led them to being together. He couldn't just walk away, even if his mother had planted some crazy idea in his head. Kurt hadn't missed the slip of the tongue that led Blaine to mention her.

He had to stop him. Before he could help himself, Kurt reverted to the one thing he knew he could always turn to. He sang, loud enough for Blaine's retreating form to hear.

_Can't believe it's over_

_I watched the whole thing fall_

_And I never saw the writing that was on the wall_

_If I'd only knew_

_The days were slipping past_

_That the good things never last_

_That you were crying_

Blaine had stopped in his tracks, hearing the sound of Kurt's distinctive singing voice. Emotion swelled in his chest and he turned around. The countertenor stood there, framed by the bright grass and the background of the brick building. He was looking directly at Blaine, and he could see the redness in Kurt's eyes that meant the tears were finally falling.

_Summer turns to winter_

_And the snow had turned to rain_

_And the rain turned into tears upon your face_

_I hardly recognize the boy you are today_

_And God, I hope it's not too late_

…_it's not too late_

He had stopped walking, which was only a small relief to Kurt. Hesitantly, Kurt took a step toward Blaine. He didn't back away. So far so good.

'_Cause you are not alone_

_I'm always there with you_

_And we'll get lost together_

_Til the light comes pouring through_

'_Cause when you feel like you're done_

_And the darkness has won_

_Babe, you're not lost_

_When your world's crashing down_

_And you cannot bear the thought_

_I said, "Babe, you're not lost"_

Kurt had continued to walk toward Blaine as he sung and Blaine still hadn't moved. Kurt reached out and took one of Blaine's hands. Though the other boy didn't reciprocate the gesture, Kurt held fast to his hand, if only to show that he was there for him, no matter what.

_Life can show no mercy_

_It can tear your soul apart_

_It can make you feel like you've gone crazy_

_But you're not_

_And things have seemed to change_

_There's one thing that's still the same_

_In my heart you have remained_

_And we can fly, fly, fly away_

Blaine looked away from Kurt as he took his hand, though he didn't pull away. He didn't need this. He didn't need Kurt to make this harder than it had to be. Couldn't he see that Blaine was only doing this because he cared about him so much? Because he – in every sense of the word – _loved_ him?

'_Cause you are not alone_

_And I am there with you_

_And we'll get lost together_

_Til the light comes pouring through_

'_Cause when you feel like you're done_

_And the darkness has won_

_Babe, you're not lost_

Somehow he had to make Blaine see. He had to make him see that Kurt didn't care about anything beside him. He had to make him see that together they were ten times stronger than they were apart. Hadn't they already proved that?

He couldn't let this happen.

_And the world's crashing down _

_And you cannot bear the cross_

_I said, "Baby, you're not lost"_

Kurt fell silent, and he looked at Blaine hopefully, his blue eyes wide.

Blaine returned the gaze with his amber one, lost for words for more than a few moments. Gently, he raised his other hand to the one Kurt had grabbed. Kurt's heart soared for a moment before realizing that he was removing Kurt's fingers, not grasping onto them.

Blaine looked at him hopelessly. "…I'm sorry," he said quietly. He fought the urge to close the distance between them, an urge that it took every ounce of willpower to resist, and turned away again. This time, he didn't turn back. Blaine hadn't ever felt an emotion as extreme as the one he experienced as he walked away from Kurt. He felt like having his heart literally torn in two would be far less painful than its emotional equivalent, which he was facing now.

Kurt was feeling a different set of emotions. Overall, betrayal echoed. How could Blaine do that to him? Kurt's heart was fluttering like a hummingbird, pounding against his ribcage as if clamoring to be let out. They'd been happy. How could he just throw everything away? Was it because he was afraid? Afraid for Kurt? How did a forced parting remedy that? Kurt was completely convinced that this had not been Blaine's idea. That wasn't how Blaine's mind worked. He had been convinced of it somehow.

But that didn't lessen the sting. He'd been left there, abandoned, and Blaine was the one who had done it to him. Kurt could still feel tears coursing down his cheeks and more than anything, he wanted to let out a huge, gut-wrenching sob.

Fighting what he knew would come eventually, Kurt turned on his heel and sprinted back into the school. He knew better than to attempt to drive home. He didn't want to expend any effort, either. He just wanted to sit. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to crumple up and rock himself. He wanted his tears to flow freely down his cheeks, uninhibited by shame. He wanted to cry it all out. He wanted to cry out all of his emotions until he had none left, until he was plain grey, devoid of all color. He wanted to let out loud sobs that wracked his frame and left him tired, too tired to feel.

…He just wanted Blaine.

* * *

From across the quad, four people had seen the interaction between Kurt and Blaine, none but a pair knowing that they weren't the only ones watching. They were all too far away to hear, but they'd watched with gaping mouths as the situation rapidly plummeted downhill.

After Blaine had walked off in one direction and Kurt had run in the other, crying and visibly upset, the four boys reacted immediately and differently.

Wes and David quickly moved after Blaine. It was easy to tell that whatever had happened was initiated by Blaine, and it wasn't too difficult to imagine what had happened. He hadn't been vocal about his family situation at school but Wes and David knew that there was serious conflict going on, and with what Blaine had told the pair combined with what they had gleaned for themselves, they'd been able to piece together a lot more than they let on.

They needed to speak to him immediately.

Sapphire eyes watched Kurt as he ran back into the school. Jordan knew that he shouldn't interfere. He knew that he should leave Kurt alone, at least for now. But, he resolved as he turned and walked in the direction Kurt had gone, all he was going to do was offer Kurt a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear. He was just going to comfort him, as a friend.

Jordan didn't like to see Kurt in such a state of emotional distress, even if it did mean that things were going downhill with Anderson. He wouldn't have hurt Kurt like that. He would have done anything to keep him happy.

The fourth boy did not make a move to follow either Blaine or Kurt. He hadn't been with Wes and David but he had seen them run after Blaine. He was in good hands, the older Warblers would get to the bottom of what happened. Confident in that, he turned his blonde head to see where Kurt had run off to.

Instead of focusing on the countertenor, Jeff's eyes had fixated on Jordan. His mouth parted slightly and his brow furrowed as he watched the older boy run after Kurt. He stood still for a few seconds, mind quickly processing his options. Jeff looked at the parking lot briefly to see that Wes and David had reached Blaine and were now talking at him with big hand gestures.

His mind made up, Jeff set forward quickly and followed Jordan back into Dalton.

* * *

_Lost - Michael Bublé _


	20. Chapter 20 :: The Denial Twist

_A/N: Hey there folks! So, I thought I'd put a little disclaimer at the beginning of this chapter - I really should have done this long ago. I hate to get all heavy and depressing but no one's actions are a reflection of how I think people should behave in real life situations similar to this. Also, I thought I'd clarify that I made up the whole one-month-program thing - it's called fiction for a reason, right? :) In real life, punishment is far more severe; though I hardly claim to be any sort of expert on these matters._

_Also, I got curious to see how the length of this fic measured up to real literature so I did a little Google search. I was shocked to my core to find that the word count of this fic is higher than both The Philosopher's Stone and The Chamber of Secrets - WHOA. I'm still shocked, I think, mostly by how far this story has come. I think I mentioned this before, and I kid you not: this was supposed to be a smutty one shot. In the first chapter, Blaine was supposed to climb the trellis to Kurt's window and have some sexy fun times. I have NO idea how it got to HERE from there - I think Jordan taking root in my head had a lot to do with that..._

_Wow, yeah I'm babbling. I'm just going to go wonder over this in silence so I can let you guys get on with the reading!_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

TWENTY:

Jordan walked calmly through the Dalton grounds. The school tended to drain quickly, especially at this time of the year, when people had better places to enjoy the outdoor weather than at school. It helped that it was Friday and the students wanted to get on with their social lives and escape the confines of their all-boys school. Jordan had a feeling that he knew where Kurt was going. He assumed it would be the place he felt most comfortable, and that wasn't going to be any ordinary classroom. He made for the music hall that the Warblers practiced in.

He slowed his pace as he drew closer to the music hall. Tinkering piano notes came from inside the room. Covertly, Jordan peered through the open doors. Kurt sat at the piano. One hand supported his head but the over flew over the keys in a haphazard manner, hitting a variety of notes that still somehow managed to sound strangely cohesive. Jordan's brows drew together slightly. What was he doing?

If he hadn't been confused before, the emotion grew tenfold when Kurt moved his hand from his face and began to hit the keys harder. It took Jordan less than three seconds to know exactly what he was playing, and he couldn't help it when a smile spread across his face. If there was a less Kurt-esque song or genre in the world, Jordan would be hard-pressed to find it – perhaps some sort of death metal. But, he supposed, that was one of the most wonderful things about Kurt. He was always full of surprises.

Jordan knew that the fierce beginning notes of the song should have prepared him for the moment when Kurt began to sing but they didn't in the least. It was still a shock when Kurt's angelic voice, so perfectly molded for longing, lamenting Broadway songs shot forth and sung the short, abrupt lines. He was slowing the original beat slightly but it was close enough to how the song was written that in an absurd way, it gave Jordan the insane and entirely inappropriate urge to giggle. But it would indeed be inappropriate, as Kurt had run into the room looking quite distraught; this could only be coming from a place deep inside him and Jordan knew that on some level it was relevant, it was _always _relevant.

_If you think that a kiss is all in the lips_

_Come on, you've got it all wrong, man_

_And if you think that a dance is all in the hips_

_Oh well, then do the twist_

Kurt had made a beeline for the music hall. His emotions were waging a fierce battle inside both his mind and heart. His heart was distraught. He hadn't had anything at McKinley – Blaine was the first _something_ he had ever had, the first person who appreciated him fully for every aspect of himself. The most selfish part of his heart was simply aching that he'd walked off.

Then there was the other conflicting pat of his heart that knew Blaine was simply spouting nonsense. Someone had affected him to the point where he didn't even sound like himself anymore and that wasn't the Blaine he knew. Kurt supposed that he had to be a product of his environment. He could hardly put himself in Blaine's position – how moldable would you be if you'd been pushed around by people for your teenage life? Awfully moldable, apparently.

Then there was an entirely different force trying to rule his emotions: logic. Blaine was acting _strange_ in a way that he wasn't quite sure how to handle. Suddenly, Kurt was feeling very small and very young, immersed in a situation that was too large for him. He imagined that telling someone his situation would result in their thinking him overdramatic. After all, Blaine's father had gone through the treatment that he'd been meant to and he'd apparently graduated from it, since he was being permitted to resume his life with a warning and a black mark upon his record. Figuring out the line between his business and Blaine's, and when he should cross it, was an issue that was clouding his mind to the extreme.

With all these conflicting issues whirling inside of him, he just needed to release it in some manner. He needed a moment of freedom.

So he sat down at the piano in the music hall.

_If you think holding hands is all in the fingers_

_Grab hold of the soul where the memory lingers_

_And make sure to never do it with those singers_

'_Cause he'll tell everyone in the world_

_What he was thinking about the girl_

_Yeah, what he's thinking about the girl, oh_

To say that singing in this genre felt strange was an understatement, but strange wasn't bad. Singing Mellencamp in front of the glee club had been strange in a bad way; that hadn't been him. This was quite different. Besides, Kurt was hardly thinking about genre. His thoughts were still torn between the boy who'd walked away in the parking lot and his own inner conflicts.

_A lot of people get confused and they bruise_

_Real easy when it comes to love_

_They start putting on their shoes and walking out_

_And singing, "Boy, I think I've had enough"_

_Just because he makes a big rumpus _

_He don't mean to be mean or hurt you on purpose, boy_

_Take a tip and do yourself a little service_

_Take a mountain turn it into a mole_

_Just by playing a different role_

_Yeah, by playing a different role, oh_

_The boat, yeah you know he's rocking it_

_And the truth, well you know there's no stopping it_

Jeff had followed Jordan as he proceeded to the music hall; he made a mental note of the fact that older boy never seemed to hesitate in his path onward, as if he knew that Kurt would be there.

He slowed as Jordan did and settled himself where Jordan wouldn't see him. Why had he stopped at the door and not gone in? Jeff peered around himself, self-conscious. Spying really was below him. But after hearing much of what Blaine had to say about the situation surrounding Jordan, he couldn't just let the other boy go off after Kurt while Blaine marched himself in the opposite direction. He needed to see what would happen with his own eyes.

Blaine and Kurt were his friends, after all. They'd seemed so happy for a while. If he could help fix what happened, he would gladly sink to the level of spying. But Jordan had stopped and was merely standing at the door. Perhaps he meant to do nothing?

Jeff's attention peaked when he heard someone begin playing the piano and it spiked to an even higher level when a familiar voice joined it.

_The boat, yeah you know he's still rocking it_

_And the truth, well you know there's no stopping it_

_So what, somebody left you in a rut_

_And wants to be the one who's in control_

_But the feeling that you're under can really make you wonder_

_How the hell he can be so cold_

Jordan continued to observe Kurt as he played. He could tell that the countertenor wasn't being very careful with either the song or his voice, which made sense; he was sure Kurt wasn't aware that he was being watched. But it was all too apparent that something deeper was going on in Kurt's mind. The way his hands hit the keys with too much force, the roughness to his voice as he sang the quick lines, the way he seemed to put his whole body into every note – it all contributed.

_So now you're mad, denying the truth_

_And it's hidden in the wisdom in the back of your tooth_

_You need to spit it out in a telephone booth_

_While you call everyone that you know_

_And ask 'em where do you think he goes_

_Oh yeah, where d'you suppose he goes?_

_The truth, well you know there's no stopping it_

_And the boat, well you know he's still rocking it_

Whether it was the actual singing or the release of pounding on the piano keys, Kurt found that his song was actually helping. Who knew that one act of a particular peer would spark his curiosity and send him straight to Google? Without Jordan's selection for Mrs. Alcott's test, which now seemed so long ago, Kurt knew he'd be singing something else. Hell, he might not have even been there at all. It was a practice in irony.

_The boat, yeah you know he's still rocking it_

_And the truth, yeah you know there's no stopping it_

_You recognize with your back in the back?_

_That it's colder when he rocks the boat_

_But it's the cause hitting on the Cardinal Laws_

_'Bout the proper place to hang your coat_

_So to you, the truth is still hidden_

_And the soul plays the role of a lost little kitten but_

_You should know that the doctors weren't kidding_

_He's been singing it all along_

_But you were hearing a different song_

_Yeah, you were hearing a different song_

_But you were hearing a different song_

He hardly had time to let the piano notes fade before the sound of lonely clamping echoed through the room. Kurt whirled around on the piano seat, not realizing until that moment that there were still tears slowly tracing their way down his cheeks. Quickly, he raised his hands to swipe them away.

"Don't bother," Jordan said, waving a hand. "You'll only make it worse." He continued toward the bench and motioned for Kurt to move over. Hesitantly, the countertenor obliged. "You know," Jordan continued, sitting next to him and tapping absently on a key. "Some people are attractive criers." He paused. "I can safely say now that you are _not_ one of them."

"Oh, what did you even come over here for?" Kurt growled, standing abruptly and hoisting his bag onto his shoulder. "To spy on me and then shoot out insults? That's very considerate but I think I'll just excuse myself now."

He began to walk away but was stopped by Jordan's extended hand lightly touching his forearm. "Kurt," he said, voice quiet. "That isn't why I followed you." Kurt observed him squarely and Jordan shrugged, looking away under his direct gaze. "You looked upset. You still look upset. I was just wondering…"

"What happened that you can get sadistic pleasure from?" Kurt shot at him, emotions making him snippety.

"If I could do anything to help," Jordan finished.

Kurt was careful to keep any surprise he might have felt away from the telltale windows that were his eyes. "Well there isn't," he said shortly, fiddling with the straps on his shoulder bag. He wanted to walk away but curiosity was getting the better of him. "Is that…is that the real reason?"

Jordan shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, you and Anderson always decide to stage your battles in the most crowded public arena you can locate so I'm shocked that you're second guessing it."

Kurt struggled for words but he couldn't find an immediate comeback for that. Instead, he turned to walk away. "Why did you sing that song? I didn't think that was your type of music."

Kurt paused. He didn't turn his body but he tilted his head in Jordan's direction. "It isn't – it wasn't. I heard someone sing something of theirs once," he spoke quietly and shrugged a shoulder. "I decided to do a little more investigating."

Jordan smiled slightly, trying not to look too pleased with himself. "I can just…be a listening ear, if you want," he said slowly, each word coming more painfully than pulling teeth. "I can do that."

"Can you, though?" Kurt asked, finally turning around properly. Jordan inclined his head, just once, but it was enough to make Kurt take a step forward. "Blaine's acting…strange," he said, slowly and carefully. "He…he…" The countertenor looked away, toward a dark spot on the polished wood floor.

"He left?" Jordan finished. "Well, I know all about that." Kurt's brow inclined slightly. What was that supposed to mean? Did he know that he'd left because, in his own terminology, they'd chosen a "public arena", though Kurt was sure he'd pulled Blaine away? Or because he'd had people leave him before too?

"Well…it just seemed so unfounded," Kurt continued, feeling immensely awkward that he was telling this to Jordan, of all people.

"Then maybe it is."

"Jordan?" Kurt asked hesitantly. "Can I ask you a question?"

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

Kurt looked at him quizzically and a strange expression crossed his face. "I guess you are. What would you do, if you were me?"

Jordan merely stared at Kurt for a few moments after he asked his question. What _would_ he do? Would he lie for himself or tell the truth for someone else? In the end, much to his surprise, the answer wasn't even hard to come by. He uncrossed his arms and braced them on the piano bench he was still sitting on. "I guess I'd fight for what I wanted," he said, lifting his eyes so their blue gazes were locked together. "Especially if what happened was unfounded, because if you just let your opportunity walk away…well, you'll regret it."

Kurt surveyed him for a moment. "You realize that you're being insightful?" Kurt asked, a smile pulling at his lips.

"Yeah, well," Jordan defended himself hurriedly, crossing his arms against his chest once more. "I'm actually not a complete asshole; I'm sure it comes as a surprise to you."

"No," Kurt answered, tapping his toes to the ground in an anxious motion. "It doesn't surprise me. I never thought that, not really."

"Now _that_," Jordan said slowly, "is a surprise." Their gaze remained locked for a few more brief moments before Jordan looked away and motioned to the door with his head. "Go on, then."

Kurt smiled and proceeded to the door, stopping when he was beneath the frame. "Jordan?" The performer looked toward him again. "Thank you."

Jordan smiled, a bit ruefully, but did not say anything until Kurt had already left. "Yeah, you're welcome," he muttered after the countertenor had disappeared from view. He sighed and leaned his head into his hands. "God, I'm a fucking idiot."

* * *

Kurt left the music hall with new resolve. What had he been thinking earlier? His tears had long since dried up and he strode through the grounds of Dalton briskly, making his way toward the parking lot. Jordan had been right, although fighting wasn't the word that Kurt would have used for what he was setting out to do. Something was obviously wrong, and the first thing that needed to be done was seeing to and remedying Blaine's strange viewpoint on the situation they were in. He needed to show him – no, _prove_ to him – that they were better together, they _belonged_ together.

He used the button on his key ring to automatically unlock his car door before reaching it. He was just reaching out to grab the handle – shiny and new from the fast repair that his father had been able to do while Kurt had been too injured to drive – when a voice called out his name.

"Kurt!"

He was slightly miffed to be interrupted when he had found such a pressing need to attend to, but he recognized the speaker and knew that he could never cut her off. "Mrs. Alcott?" Kurt asked, turning around and beaming at her.

"I was hoping you'd still be here." She sounded slightly out of breath, her mild Australian accent coming through thicker than it usually did. "I actually had a question…about Blaine."

"Okay," Kurt said cautiously. He wondered how much Mrs. Alcott knew. He knew that the Dalton Headmaster had been informed of Blaine's family situation but he wasn't sure how much, if anything, the regular staff knew. It was no secret that something was going on – Kurt and Blaine's arrival with matching bruises, though from different sources, had raised many eyebrows and solicited many questions which they answered in roundabout ways.

"I noticed that he's been acting a bit strange this week," she continued. "Is anything the matter?"

Kurt hesitated. He honestly wasn't sure. He didn't want to raise alarms but he didn't want to give her false information either. He felt silly for analyzing the situation to such a degree, but he couldn't help it. "He might just be stressed," Kurt offered, leaving out the part about their relationship issues. "Honestly, I'm not sure. You're right; he has been acting strange. I'm actually going to speak to him right now, to…make sure that everything is okay."

Something flashed through the music teacher's eyes but it was gone before Kurt could identify it. "Good," she said, grinning broadly. "I'm sure a friend's support never hurt anyone." She paused momentarily before continuing. "Keep an eye on him, Kurt, will you? We'll all be looking out for him of course, but I know you two are close."

"Sure," Kurt responded, feeling like he was getting far less than half the story. She nodded once and Kurt took that as his cue to depart. "Well, I'll see you next Monday, Mrs. Alcott."

"I'll see you then, Kurt," she responded as he opened his door. "Be careful."

He smiled at his teacher one last time and shut the door. He was halfway through turning on the car – in between taking off the parking break and shifting it into reverse – when the reality of what she had said sunk in.

_Be careful_?

Kurt turned to look for Mrs. Alcott again but she had already gone. What had she meant by telling him to be careful? Briefly, Kurt wondered if she did in fact know the entire story. But no, he told himself, that was the Anderson family's private business and the school wouldn't go around telling teachers, even if they did also happen to co-run the Warblers.

She must have been talking about the drive, Kurt told himself. Yes; she knew that he'd been in an accident so she must have been talking about having a safe drive – people said things like that all the time.

* * *

Jeff watched Jordan walk into the room after Kurt's song faded out. He didn't dare creep closer for fear they'd exit the room suddenly and he wouldn't have time to hide, but he did shift himself so he could see the two of them. All they did was speak; even the time they sat next to each other was brief. When Kurt marched out of the room not long after, he was looking considerably better than he had looked when he went in.

Jordan didn't follow, and Jeff began to grow curious. Figuring that one person's actions were easier to anticipate than that of two people, he approached the room and peered inside again. Jordan sat on the piano stool, still tapping that one note. He was staring distantly into space, seemingly lost in thought.

Jeff saw him sigh and run a hand through his hair, setting the whole arrangement on end. He continued to tap the one note in a clear metronomic pattern, and though he never touched a different key, he began to sing to himself.

_I blew it_

_And if I knew what to do, then I'd do it_

_But the point that I have, I'll get to it_

_That forever for him is over for me_

Jeff scoffed lightly as he heard Jordan begin to sing. This was turning into some concert that he had the luck to witness, though what struck him as truly strange was Jordan's voice. It was clearly the same voice that had sung to the Warblers so many times, but it lacked everything that made it extraordinary. His tone was flat and unexciting; his heart wasn't in it.

_Forever, just a word that they say that means never_

_To be with another together_

_And with the weight of a feather it tore into me_

_Then I knew it_

_And all the work that it took to get through it_

_On the wings of a feather that flew it_

_Fell onto my shoe, it cut up into me_

Jordan's finger tapped down on the solitary key with the beat of the song. His head was resting in his other hand and he could feel his voice drawling out in the most unappealing manner possible. He could hardly care less. More distressing than the fact that he'd helped Kurt with his relationship with Anderson was the fact that he'd drawn more than a bit of pleasure from giving the countertenor helpful advice, whether it pertained to Anderson or not.

_Well, everybody's reaction is changing you_

_But their love is only a fraction of what I could give to you_

_So let's do it, just get on a plane and just do it_

_Like the birds and the bees and get to it_

_Just get out of town and forever be free_

_Forever, I wonder we could stay together_

_It could change, if you want, for the better_

_Just turn down my shirt and lay down next to me_

Jordan sighed, and before he could finish the song, he grabbed his things and breezed out of the room. Jeff barely managed to slide behind the heavy oak door before Jordan passed. The older boy left the music hall and proceeded to leave the building altogether, Jeff watching his retreating figure the entire way.

If that wasn't the strangest thing he'd seen in his entire life, Jeff didn't know what was. Attempting to categorize everything he had sen into something that he could pass on to Wes and David, the blonde Warbler pulled out his phone to see that he already had a new message waiting.

* * *

_The Denial Twist - The White Stripes_

_Forever For Her (Is Over For Me) - The White Stripes_


	21. Chapter 21 :: Forget About Love

_A/N: GOOD LORD, it's been so long since I've updated this; frankly, I'm ashamed of myself and I apologize deeply! My other multi-chapter, Prince Charming (haven't read it? Go check it out! :D), seized my muse and wouldn't let it go for a while. And a little selfish part of me kept putting off publishing this because that means this fic is almost over! After this, there will be either on uber long chapter or broken up into two, depending on how long it actually gets - a lot still needs to happen!_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

TWENTY-ONE:

Kurt drove slowly down the street which held the Anderson residence, eyes scanning for a spot along the street where he could park his car. The area right in front of the Anderson's long driveway was obnoxiously taken by a dark blue, sleek looking car that took up enough space for what could have been two cars, had it been parked correctly. Consequentially, Kurt parked a bit up the street and walked.

He squinted inconspicuously into the blue car as he passed but the windows were tinted too darkly to afford him a view of the inside. _Of course_, he thought as he rolled his eyes. It was just like a Westerville resident living in this fancy area to do such a thing and then, on top of it all, park so annoyingly.

As he walked down the long driveway, Kurt began to talk to himself. He didn't want to call it a pep talk…though that's exactly what it was. Cayden Anderson was somewhere in that big house and the last thing Kurt wanted was to face him again quite so soon. With any luck, Blaine would open the door and he wouldn't have to talk to either of his parents.

An idea occurred to him as he approached the house, one that meant he definitely wouldn't have to speak to either of the elder Andersons. Instead of knocking on the door, Kurt went around the house to the second floor window that was Blaine's – at least, he was pretty sure it belonged to Blaine. Blaine had done this once to him, after all.

Kurt scanned the ground for something small and relatively harmless that he could throw at the window. He settled for several large pieces of bark that lay around the base of a nearby plant. He tossed several pieces and heard them all clink against the window with a sound that no one inside the room could miss.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered as loud as he dared. "I just need to talk to you for a few minutes."

"Hello?" A voice called out just around the corner from Kurt. "Who's there?" He didn't even have time to unhand the bark – let alone run away – before Blaine's father walked around the corner looking wary. He paused when he saw Kurt.

Kurt simply stared. He couldn't break away the line of his eyes and he certainly couldn't move his feet. He opened his hand slowly and the bark dropped to the ground; it was the only sound he made.

Blaine's father cleared his throat and took a step back. Kurt could see the differences in him, the most notable being that this version of Cayden was alcohol-free and presumably lucid. "We didn't spend five thousand dollars on a front door to have people skipping around the side yard and throwing rocks at windows," he said, face expressionless.

Kurt figured that '_it's bark_' would be a bad place to begin, though it was one of the only sentences he could formulate. "I'm sorry," he stuttered quickly. "I thought it might be difficult to hear a knock at the door. The house is so…large," he finished lamely.

Cayden was silent for a few moments. "Hummel, right?"

Kurt didn't know if he was pleased or frightened that Blaine's father knew that. Though he had to admit that the meeting had advanced in a different direction than he'd imagined when Cayden turned the corner. "That's me," he said. "I was just…I wanted to tell Blaine something."

"He isn't here," Cayden said. He was still talking in that carefully flat and emotionless tone. "He called to say he was with Wesley and David. Good boys; Blaine says they both have girlfriends."

Kurt hardly understood why that made them good boys but he imagined that Cayden's opinion of people was swayed differently than his. "Right…yeah, they're…great." Was he making small talk with the man that had beaten Blaine for God only knew how many years? Kurt knew that the shock of seeing him again hadn't even sunk in. He'd almost forgotten what he'd come there to do. "Well if he isn't here, I should go. Uh…goodbye then."

Blaine's father didn't say anything. He nodded his head once and Kurt figured that was his cue to walk away quickly. His legs were trembling by the time he got to the end of the driveway. He was trembling so much, in fact, that he didn't even see Blaine coming around the corner in front of him.

"Kurt," said Blaine in shock. The countertenor looked up to see disbelief written across Blaine's face. The shorter boy took hasty steps toward the taller one. "You…you were just at…my house. What did you…you didn't…did you?"

Kurt's brow dipped momentarily. "Don't bother trying to talk coherently," he said sarcastically.

"I was with Wes and David," Blaine said quickly, his eyes skirting away. Kurt nodded. "Why are you here, Kurt? Does this have to be harder than it already is?"

Kurt bit his lip to hold back his biting retort. It wouldn't help to start a fight. Blaine needed his help. "If it being harder means things will get fixed properly," Kurt said, "then yes. Yes it does have to be."

"What are you talking about?"

"I could ask you the exact same question," Kurt said, attempting a delicate air. He looked at Blaine and fixed his eyes to his face, refusing to look away. "We haven't known each other for too long, but in that time, I imagine that I've gotten to know you – _Blaine_ – pretty well. And for fear of sounding indelicate, that wasn't Blaine talking to me, was it?" He paused, noting all the emotions that played across Blaine's face. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Why are you doing this?" Blaine asked, skirting around the question. "I told you that I don't want to drag you into a complicated mess. You deserve better than me and the tangled baggage I come with."

"That isn't what you said," Kurt said softly, after a short pause. "You said that you didn't want me in danger. You didn't want to take a chance."

"Same thing," Blaine mumbled.

"No, it isn't," Kurt insisted. He stepped forward and grabbed Blaine's hand; he felt the other Warbler tense up at his touch, though he didn't draw away. "The only thing they have in common is that they're both excuses. They're excuses as to why we shouldn't be together and never in a million years would _Blaine_ give excuses for that sort of thing. Blaine, who climbed up my trellis to take me to sing at a _gay parade_ –"

"It was a rally," Blaine muttered, causing Kurt to crack a momentary smile.

"Blaine, who bought me tickets to _Chicago_ and skirted the guards backstage," Kurt continued. "Blaine, who left me his lunch when I forgot to pack mine; Blaine, who never gave up on me even when I was literally walking away. That Blaine would never give the sort of excuses you're giving now."

"But things were different then," Blaine said weakly.

"Different because you were keeping a secret," Kurt said, waving his free hand in exasperation. "Don't you hear yourself? I'm trying to tell you how it is, because you're a box of paradoxes and everything that's happened has taken _you_ from you."

"What am I supposed to do then?" Blaine snapped, finally drawing back his hand. He crossed his arms across his chest.

"Talk to someone," Kurt answered. "I'm serious. If you don't go to talk to someone – the counselor at Dalton – I'll go to him and tell him myself." Blaine narrowed his eyes slightly but Kurt's expression didn't falter. "You can be mad at me for giving you an ultimatum but," he couldn't believe the words that were about to come from his mouth, "bringing you back from whatever has its hold over you is more important than getting on your good side."

Blaine's amber eyes were wide and he bit down roughly on his bottom lip. He was silent for a long moment. Kurt was about to repeat his statement once more and leave when Blaine spoke. "I could never be mad at you," he said, meeting Kurt's eyes. "Not really." His voice was rough. "I feel…I don't even know _how_ I feel. I feel like I should have faith in what will come, but I don't. I feel afraid for myself…but afraid for you more than that. I feel like I'm weighing you down, like you always have both my problems and your own to contend with. I feel like…" He paused and squeezed his eyes closed. "Like my mother doesn't want what's best for me but what's best for her. My father wants what suits him. I…I just want someone to think about _me_."

Kurt listened to Blaine's speech, his jaw opening wider with each word. After Blaine stopped talking, he moved forward to wrap his arms around the other boy and hold him tight. "I think about you," he told Blaine strongly. "I think about you all the time. I think about what's best for you. I think about how lucky I am to have you. I think about how horrible my life would have been without you. I think about things I can do to make you happy. I think about how I would face anything for your sake."

"But I don't deserve it," Blaine said, speaking a paradox once again.

"See what you've been made to think?" Kurt asked, still holding Blaine tightly. "You want someone to care about you but you've been surrounded by people who only care for themselves so you don't believe you deserve that. But you _do_." Kurt pulled back and waited until Blaine looked him in the eyes. "Promise me. _Promise me_ that you'll go speak to someone. Please."

Blaine's expression had changed into what Kurt hoped was realization. "I promise," he answered. "Monday, if it's what you want."

"I want what will help you," Kurt explained.

"Monday then," Blaine said, looking uncomfortable. "A-about earlier…"

"You don't have to say anything about that," Kurt said quickly, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He wanted Blaine back more than almost anything else. But what he did want most of all was to see a different Blaine than the one he'd spoken to earlier, whatever the consequence. "Just do what I asked, please? After that we can…straighten things out."

Blaine still looked uneasy. "I'm sorry," was all he said.

Kurt shook his head and attempted to smile. "Don't be," he said. "Don't say you're sorry until the matter is settled. It's far from it." He gave Blaine another forced smile and bid him a half-optimistic farewell.

Blaine might still be in a strange mindset but at least he'd gotten him to agree to talk to a professional, Kurt thought. Mr. Anderson had seemed almost _normal_. He was a bit uptight to be sure, but normal enough. Kurt's unsinkable tendency to forgive too easily and see the best in everyone had him thinking that things were beginning to look up. Perhaps everything was going to be alright.

* * *

His optimism floated along unmarred all through the weekend. When Blaine entered Mrs. Alcott's classroom on Monday, he gave Kurt a little smile and a nod to show that he hadn't forgotten. As soon as the bell rang, Kurt looked at Blaine expectantly.

Blaine bit his lip as if he was about to protest, but he didn't. "I'm going, I'm going. I just wanted to say…I thought a lot about what you said, after you left," he whispered, "…I get it." Kurt didn't know what say. He half thought Blaine might be saying that to appease him but he didn't press the matter.

"I'll talk to you later," Kurt said. "Afterwards, alright?" Blaine nodded and made his way to administration to talk quickly to the Dalton counselor during the short break.

"You two will give me whiplash," said a dry voice from behind Kurt. He didn't need to turn around to see who it was. "I don't suppose you could either stay mad at each other or stay on good terms for any length of time?"

"Eavesdropping, Jordan?" Kurt asked placidly, turning toward the older boy. "You know, you were the one who told me to go talk to him."

"Yeah, I know," he muttered. "It doesn't mean I can't lament my temporary madness now that I'm in a saner frame of mind."

"You don't really believe that," Kurt told him, smile twisting his lips.

"Keep thinking that," Jordan muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kurt shook his head indulgently. "You know, Jordan…deep, _deep_ down, you're a good person." Jordan's eyes narrowed but Kurt still believed he was putting on an act. "I take it you didn't go out of your way just to complain at me."

"No, actually," he responded, almost shyly. The older boy tapped a toe against the hardwood floor of the hallway. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Do tell."

Jordan looked up from where he'd been scuffing the ground with his shoe to make eye contact with Kurt. He deserved one last chance, in his own opinion. Hadn't Blaine forced the exact same issue, when it should have been too late for him? He'd never been told exactly what Blaine had wanted to say to Kurt on Valentine's Day but it didn't take a genius to figure it out. "Can you come to the stage after practice? Just for a few minutes."

Kurt was immediately unsure. He didn't exactly trust Jordan…or, if he was being honest, he didn't exactly trust himself with Jordan. But he'd been so helpful in the last few days, perhaps he really just had something to say. "You can't…tell me now?"

"Do you have to ask a million questions?" Jordan snapped. "Can't you just say yes or no?"

"Fine," Kurt said, slightly affronted, "if you're going to get so snappy about it."

"Good," Jordan said quickly. "Okay then…" And he walked away without saying another word.

Kurt stared after him, shocked into stillness. If _that_ wasn't weird, he didn't know what was. He was far past trying to figure out Jordan. He had more important things to think about, like Blaine.

* * *

He went through the rest of the day with half of his mind on how Blaine's venture had gone, but didn't get a chance to talk to him alone until right before Warbler practice.

"Before you ask," Blaine said immediately, "we only talked for a few minutes." His face broke into a grin. "But he's nice enough. He…listens. I've never really been listened to like that before."

"Well, that's good. Maybe you just need a chance," Kurt said quietly as both Alcotts entered the music hall. He noticed that Oliver had dark circles under his eyes and looked a bit worn down, as if he'd been working too hard. He glanced surreptitiously at the students present. Jordan wasn't among them, and yet he'd asked Kurt to meet him later. Kurt sighed. How typical.

* * *

Jordan had gone straight to the performance stage after class got out. It was almost the end of the year and the Warblers really had nothing to practice for besides nursing home shows. The only reason he'd stayed with the group was because there was no other shows his profession would disqualify him from. Now that _Chicago_ had wrapped, he was back on the prowl for another role; he was sure that it wouldn't be long before he booked another job.

But as a consequence, he didn't feel bad about skiving off Warbler practice. Instead, he tinkered lamely on the piano on stage, glancing periodically at his watch to see how long it would be until Kurt came to meet him.

Half an hour, twenty minutes, ten, and then five. Impatient, Jordan decided to pass the meandering minutes with something that always made time slide by faster: a song.

* * *

After practice, Kurt almost left for home without going to the stage. If Jordan hadn't been with the Warblers, what were the chances that he would show up there? But hanging on the off chance that he might be, Kurt stole out of the room after practice and left for the stage at a quick clip.

Three pairs of eyes followed Kurt's retreating form. "You see?" Jeff whispered quickly to his two companions.

"But he wasn't at practice," Wes whispered. "Maybe Kurt just needs to get home quickly for something. He _does_ live far away."

"Would wandering in the same direction by happenstance really hurt anyone?" David mumbled, quickly pulling his bag onto his shoulder. "That way we can see for sure. Jeff said they were together after school on Friday, why don't we just see where he's going now before we jump to conclusions?"

The three exchanged another look before following Kurt's path through the halls.

Before Kurt was even able to see the stage, he heard music. Wondering if this was what he was supposed to be bearing witness to or if he'd stumbled onto something he shouldn't see, Kurt inched around until he could see Jordan, who appeared to have just started singing.

_You're so hypnotizing_

_Could you be the devil? Could you be an angel?_

_Your touch: magnetizing_

_Feels like I am floating, leaves my body glowing_

_They say be afraid_

_You're not like the others, futuristic lover_

_Different DNA_

_They don't understand you_

Jordan bit down on his lip between verses. Good Lord, what was coming out of his mouth? He was much more at ease with seventies and eighties powerhouse rock songs, or else something that he'd been trained to sing for the theatre. But all he could think of were the lyrics.

_You're from a whole other world_

_A different dimension_

_You open my eyes_

_And I'm ready to go, lead me into the light_

His gaze slid sideways and Jordan saw Kurt standing there, staring at him. He was of half a mind to leave off singing and pretend like Kurt hadn't already heard him at it. He wasn't sure what force propelled him to take steps toward Kurt…but he had the presence of mind to notice that Kurt didn't back away.

_Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me_

_Infect me with your love and fill me with your poison_

_Take me, ta-ta-take me_

_Wanna be a victim, ready for abduction_

Kurt knew that what he was about to do was crazy. He didn't even really _like_ Katy Perry; he had only developed an interest in her because Blaine did. After he'd heard Blaine sing "Teenage Dream" the day they met, Kurt had gone home to look up every Kay Perry song in existence. Hence, he knew most of them. But that was something he shared with Blaine and it was strange to see Jordan singing one of her songs now.

He knew that his associations with the circumstances of when he'd heard her songs meant that Katy Perry had some sort of strange power over him. Kurt told himself that it was for that reason alone that he opened his mouth and did the last thing he would have expected.

_Boy, you're an alien_

_Your touch so foreign_

_It's supernatural_

_Extraterrestrial_

_You're so supersonic_

_Wanna feel your powers, stun me with your lasers_

_Your kiss is cosmic_

_Every move is magic_

The three spying Warblers watched, jaws agape. Their eyes followed Kurt as he stepped onto the stage properly, and they noticed how neither of the singers seemed inclined to look away.

Jeff got a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had hoped that last Friday was coincidence. He had hoped that Blaine and Kurt just had a little fight, but from what Wes and David had said, Blaine was pretty messed up about something – messed up enough to potentially ruin everything. Now Kurt was with Jordan again, singing. He didn't see any painless way out of the situation.

Jordan continued,

_You're from a whole other world_

_A different dimension_

_You open my eyes_

_And I'm ready to go, lead me into the light_

Kurt was there. He was there with Jordan and he'd even started to sing with him, completely unbidden. Jordan couldn't help the sudden cloud of emotion that blossomed in his chest. Why would he have started to sing along? He wouldn't have done so if he didn't _want_ to; Kurt didn't do anything that he wasn't inclined to do. He stared into the countertenor's blue eyes as Kurt took up the next verse. Step by step, Jordan drew closer until he was a mere foot away, close enough to lean forward and…

_Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me_

_Infect me with your love and fill me with your poison_

_Take me, ta-ta-take me_

_Wanna be a victim, ready for abduction_

_Boy, you're an alien_

_Your touch, so foreign…_

Kurt's voice faded out as Jordan drew closer. For a moment there was only silence, and Kurt's eyelashes fluttered closed. He didn't want to push Jordan away, and he'd temporarily forgotten all about Blaine. For a few crazy moments, he wondered what it would be like to kiss Jordan. In those moments, he realized that it wasn't the first time he had thought such a thing.

On the back of his eyelids and in his mind's eye, Kurt watched as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jordan's, the second boy he would have willingly kissed in his entire life. In real life, he felt gentle fingers trail up his arm, over his shoulder, and around the curve of his neck. By the time he opened his eyes, Jordan's trailing fingers had made it to the line of his jaw, and his face was incredibly close.

From a hidden spot on the stage, the hiding Warblers saw everything that was happening with gaping jaws. "He can't be," started David. "What about Blaine?"

"What _about_ Blaine?" Wes hissed quietly. "He's the one who messed everything up."

"Then we have to make him change his mind," Jeff said quietly. "Kurt's upset. I…I can't believe he's…well." He looked away from the two on the stage. "Blaine might still be in the parking lot. Come on, hurry." As Jordan and Kurt drew closer, the three boys quietly rushed away from the stage, thinking that there was only one direction Kurt and Jordan's situation could have progressed.

They would have been wrong.

At almost the last moment, Kurt's heart gave an unsteady flip. Part of him ached to lean over to make contact with Jordan's lips. Blaine had _left_, a spiteful part of Kurt's mind thought. That same spiteful voice thought that kissing Jordan might make the sting of what was happening with Blaine less painful. But a more grounded part of his mind knew that pain was rooted in love.

"I can't," Kurt whispered, even as he could feel Jordan's warm breath on his face. "Jordan…I can't."

He saw Jordan's eyes flutter shut slowly and heard a sigh escape him. Only then did he say the last thing that Kurt ever expected him to: "You still love Blaine." Jordan leaned backward and his sapphire eyes flicked open to bore into Kurt's. "In spite of what he did, how he made you feel…you love him."

Kurt gaped. Jordan didn't understand everything – he couldn't – and yet for what he did now, he was being remarkably insightful. "Yes," he whispered finally.

Jordan shook his head. Kurt was having trouble identifying his expression. "I know," Jordan said simply.

"I-if this were another time…another circumstance…I mean, if Blaine and I had never –"

"Spare me the pitiful excuses," Jordan interrupted with a wave of his hand, "since this isn't another time or place and will never be."

"I don't know what to say," Kurt admitted.

"How about you just say that you won't mess it up?" Jordan asked. He smiled wryly. "I don't want to have lost for nothing."

Kurt could think of no other words to say. It turned out that he didn't need to, because Jordan gave him one last lamenting smile before walking off of the stage.

* * *

Jeff, Wes, and David had all hastened to the parking lot to catch Blaine before he left. The lot was almost empty, as most students had left hours ago, but Blaine was just getting into his car.

"I have an idea," said Jeff. The other two were shocked to see that he was smiling. He walked right up the car and rapped on the window. "Blaine? _Blaine_?"

"Jeff?" Blaine asked, getting out of his car and shutting the door. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine. So I know how you hate to fill anyone in on anything concerning your personal life, but a little birdy told me you screwed things up with Kurt."

Blaine glared at Wes and David. "And you wonder why I keep things to myself," he muttered. "It's complicated and hard to explain, okay? Maybe it's better this way for a while."

"Oh, I didn't come to talk you out of it," Jeff said with a shrug. "I just wanted to say that you are _so_ right." Wes and David – and Blaine for that matter – blanched. Still smiling mischievously, Jeff shocked them all by singing his next words.

_Forget about that guy_

_Forget about the way you fell into his eyes_

Blaine's mouth pressed into a hard line, but Wes and David's stretched out into identical grins.

_Forget about his charm_

_Forget about the way he held you in his arms_

Blaine narrowed his eyes to glare at Jeff. "I know what you're doing," he muttered. "I watch movies too, you know." Unperturbed, Jeff merely continued.

_Walking on air's obnoxious_

_The thrills, the chills_

_Will make you nauseous_

_And you'll never get enough_

_Just forget about love_

"This is ridiculous," Blaine complained, throwing his hands in the air. To his horror, Wes and David each threw an arm across his shoulders and led him a few steps away from the car. Taking a cue from Jeff, David was the next to sing, leaving Blaine to wonder whether they planned to be a nuisance or if it came naturally.

_Forget about romance_

_Forget about the way your heart begins to dance_

Wes, grinning, stepped in, pinching Blaine's cheek playfully as he started.

_Then you feel the blush_

_As he's spouting out some sentimental mush_

Jeff winked at Wes and David, glad that they'd picked up on his mode of operation so quickly. He wouldn't tell Blaine about what he'd seen, but Jeff, being chronically optimistic, was certain that it wasn't too late. He continued where Wes left off.

_Love really is revolting_

_It's even worse than when you're molting_

_Enough of this fluff_

_Just forget about love_

Simultaneously, the three turned to look at Blaine expectantly. He shook his head but, after a moment, sang in a soft, wavering voice.

_I had almost forgotten the way it felt_

_When he held out his hand for mine_

_My heart all aflutter_

David was grinning widely as he sang the line,

_Oh how I shudder…_

Blaine had started to grin reluctantly, his friend's antics putting him back in a good mood.

_The first time we kissed_

Blaine's cheeks heated at the very memory, something he was sure all three of them saw as Wes sang,

_It won't be missed_

_Forget about his touch_

The younger boy shook his head, grin fully fledged on his face now.

_I can't forget about his touch_

Jeff nudged Blaine with his shoulder playfully.

_In the scheme of things it doesn't matter much_

Blaine pushed back at him with a bashful grin.

_It matters so much_

David grinned cheekily and shook a playful finger at Blaine.

_You're better on your own_

_A meal becomes a banquet when you eat alone_

_Love's filled with compromises_

_And don't you hate those big surprises?_

Blaine broke out of their grips and gained a faraway look when he next sang. Behind his back, the three Warblers exchanged self-satisfied grins.

_A cozy rendezvous_

_Candlelight for two_

_Look, you're calling my bluff_

_I can't just forget about love_

He stopped singing but didn't immediately turn around. "So?" Jeff asked finally.

"So what?" Blaine replied, though he was still grinning. "Like I said, it's complicated. I have more than just one thing to think about, but..." He made eye contact with each Warbler. "Thanks. Even if that was possibly the gayest thing that I've ever done."

"Really? I think you're forgetting the gay parade," Wes supplied unhelpfully.

"It was a rally!" Blaine exclaimed, distressed. "Why does everyone keep saying that?" But a moment later he began to laugh, and soon they were all chuckling along with him.

On the other side of the parking lot, Jordan rolled his eyes at the distant figures of the laughing Warblers as he got into his car and drove away alone.

* * *

_E.T. - Katy Perry_

_Forget About Love - Iago and Jasmine (Aladdin: The Return of Jafar)_

* * *

Next time: Blaine is so hopeful and enthusiastic about what's happened in the course of his Monday, he decides to relate the event to his mother - but how will Cayden react if he finds out Blaine's begun to speak to a counselor about his home life...and that he's been prompted to go by Kurt?


	22. Chapter 22 :: I Should Tell You

_A/N: It has been too long since I've updated this, and for that I apologize! But here we go, another chapter. With any luck, the last update won't take this long! _

_Just a note, I advise listening to the first song while you read through it. It's a kind of confusing tune, with it's back and forth. I tried to relate it as best as I could, but I fear it still might be confusing. Also, it's just a great song to listen to :D_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

TWENTY-TWO:

Blaine drove home in better spirits than he had been in all week. He'd gone to see the Dalton counselor, as Kurt had suggested. He'd found out that the man had already been informed of his situation, and had been instructed to approach Blaine if he didn't come to him first. He arranged to meet him biweekly; now that it was in action, Blaine realized that it wasn't as horrible and demeaning as he'd made it up to be. In fact, he was rather excited about it.

He was so optimistic that he went straight into his house after parking in the driveway and began scouting for his mother.

"Mom," Blaine said when he saw her, a smile cropping up on his face. "You won't guess what my day was like."

He went up to her and grabbed her hands, ignoring her warning gaze. "Blaine…"

"You remember I mentioned Mr. Audire to you?" Her expression didn't change as he delivered his question, but Blaine continued on undeterred. "Well I went to see him today; I think…well, he's really nice! I think it's good that he's listening to me."

Mrs. Anderson's lips pursed tightly and a moment later, Blaine saw why. "You've been talking to someone?" His father had been just around the corner out of Blaine's sight.

Blaine straightened up at his question and stepped into the man's field of vision. "Y-yes, sir."

"Who?"

Blaine shifted on his feet uncomfortably. "Just the counselor at Dalton…I –"

"You're talking to a shrink?" Cayden snapped, narrowing his eyes. "Good, maybe he can cure you of this…sickness you have."

"Sickness?" Blaine asked quietly, his amber eyes wide.

"You want some sick sort of attention by pretending you like boys…be pretending you're…_abnormal_."

A rapid scene flashed through Blaine's mind. He saw the day Kurt had found out what his father was really like…the day that Kurt had stood up to him. Kurt hadn't been afraid; Kurt had summoned his courage and done the brave thing. "Being gay isn't a sickness," Blaine said quietly, echoing Kurt's words. "You can't eradicate it by talking to a counselor; that isn't why I went to meet him."

"Then why, pray tell, _did _you?"

Blaine hesitated. "Just to talk a little bit about everything," he said carefully. "Kurt thought it would –" He stopped speaking abruptly, realizing that he'd just accidentally brought Kurt into the mix.

Cayden began to nod his head slowly. "The Hummel boy…of _course_." He took a sudden step toward Blaine, making the Warbler back up abruptly and almost trip over his feet.

"D-don't touch me," Blaine protested feebly, clinging onto that bit of defiance that he'd managed to grab ahold of. "You can't; you can't touch me."

"Don't flatter yourself," his father said in a flat voice, his fist clenching nonetheless. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Blaine. "You're talking to people about me, making them think…" He broke off in agitation; by this time, the man was trembling slightly with the effort to control himself. "Get out," he finished quietly.

Blaine was silent for a few moments, stuck in the throes of shock. "What?"

"Get out," Cayden said, raising his voice. He pointed a trembling finger at the door. "I can't look at you and stop myself from…" He grimaced. "Just get _the fuck_ out of my house, and don't come back. Don't come back until you've managed to _fix_ yourself and cure this…disease that's infected your mind." He kept glaring at Blaine, but the teen didn't move. "_Get out!_"

Blaine scampered to his feet, trembling from a mix of fright, shock, and relief that he'd escaped without a physical scratch. He hastened toward the staircase and scurried up, ignoring his mother's cries of protest from downstairs.

Once he reached his room, he grabbed a bag and shoved anything he could get his hands on into it. He ran into his bathroom to hastily grab his toothbrush, and he quickly stuffed all of his school things into his shoulder bag. He was finished in less than three minutes.

With his two bags, he approached the window of his second floor room and peered outside. It looked like a long drop, but after being so far unscathed, he wasn't about to tempt fate and leave the house through the front door. He dropped the bags onto the ground and carefully inched himself out of the window until he was hanging directly down, his fingers on the bottom sill.

It was still a ten foot drop, but Blaine let go and landed on bended knees, his ankle only slightly rolling in the process. Pushing aside the tweaking pain, he grabbed his things and jogged to his car.

As he began to drive down the long driveway and onto the road, he could feel the shock and disbelief setting in; before then, he'd been operating on auto-pilot. He knew exactly where he was going, and he'd have to explain himself once he got there. He needed to come to terms with what had happened in the last ten minutes.

As he drove down the road, Blaine failed to notice the sleek, dark blue car with darkly tinted windows that pulled out to follow him.

* * *

The Hudson-Hummel family had just begun to make dinner when the doorbell rang. Kurt was in the kitchen with an apron wrapped around himself, up to his wrist in organic stuffing mix. "Dad, could you?" Kurt asked his father, who was fetching ingredients from a cabinet.

"Don't bother getting up," Burt said to Finn in an amused voice.

The tall boy was at the kitchen table, his nose pressed to a piece of paper as he struggled through math homework. He mumbled something indistinctly but didn't look up.

Burt went to answer the door, and Kurt hummed under his breath as he continued to mix the stuffing.

* * *

Burt opened the door and was completely shocked to see Blaine standing there, holding two bags and looking unsure. When the teen looked up at the older man, Burt could see that in spite of the guarded front put on by his eyes, they shimmered with held back tears.

"Blaine?" Burt asked, immediately concerned. "What's wrong? Why are you…your things…what happened?"

If anything, the protective mode that Burt immediately shifted to made Blaine even more emotional, and he had to bite down roughly on his bottom lip to keep tears from spilling over. He hadn't cried in years, he wasn't about to do so now, when his father hadn't even laid a hand on him.

"My dad kicked me out," Blaine said softly, refusing to look at Burt. "I – I was wondering if I could stay here? I should have called. I could get a hotel; I have a little money…I should have called."

"Don't be silly," Burt said, placing a hand on Blaine's shoulder and guiding him into the foyer. "Come in and stay as long as you want." He paused, his eyes searching, and Blaine realized that he was checking him over.

"He didn't _do_ anything," Blaine said quickly, his head still down. "He just told me to…get out – fix myself or get out…so I left."

"Blaine," Burt said quietly. "Look at me." Slowly, Blaine raised his head, his eyes wary. To his surprise, Burt was looking at him with concern and something that he could only call care. "You can't fix what isn't broken. There's nothing wrong with you; you know that?"

"Yes," Blaine said, not even convincing himself.

"Well, you'd do well to remember it," Burt said. "There is _not_ anything wrong with you, and it's his job to love you no matter what. He –"

"_Blaine?_" Burt was cut off by Kurt's sudden question. Blaine looked up and saw the taller boy standing in the doorway to the kitchen, an apron tied around his waist. Just beyond him, Finn sat at a table with his mouth hanging wide open. "What are you doing here?"

"What _are_ you doing here?" Finn repeated, suddenly getting to his feet fiercely. Blaine took a step back reflexively, but Finn merely stalked up to him, grabbed him by the shoulders, and began examining what skin he could see. "He didn't…you aren't…if he did, I swear, I'm calling the boys and we're going down there to –"

"_Finn_," Kurt protested, batting away his stepbrother's hands. "Let him talk." He turned to Blaine expectantly, his face questioning.

"I – I…h-he told me to g-get out of the house," Blaine stuttered, shocked by all of the attention he was receiving. Before he could help it, his eyes were welling up again, the three figures in front of him blurring together.

"Kurt," Burt whispered.

"Got it," Kurt said quickly. Blaine felt Kurt grab onto his shoulders and guide him up the stairs to his own room, where he pried the bags from Blaine's hands and sat him down on the bed. "Shh," Kurt crooned softly as Blaine crumpled forward and leaned his head on Kurt's chest. The countertenor reached up a hand and rubbed it in circles on Blaine's back as he began to feel hot tears soak through the fabric of his shirt.

"I…thought…it…was…better," Blaine said shakily in between soft convulsions. "I thought _he_ was better. I thought everything was better. I thought something in that month worked; he was acting closer to how he used to be." Blaine clutched at Kurt's shirt and continued to bury his head into his chest.

"Blaine," Kurt said softly, rocking the other boy slightly as he clung onto Kurt. "He didn't…he didn't hurt you, did he? That's something."

"It was worse," Blaine said irrationally. "He said…he essentially said that he can't bear to look at me without being repulsed to the point of…" He shook his head against Kurt's chest.

Kurt was silent for a moment before pulling away. "Don't worry," he said to Blaine as he looked up to him, startled. "I'll be right back." He left the room momentarily and returned with a box of tissues. He pressed the button on his stereo as he passed it, and soft, soothing music quietly filled the room. "You're more of a mess when you cry than I am," Kurt said with a wry smile as Blaine took a tissue. "That's saying something."

"You must hate me right now," Blaine said bitterly. "After everything I did, and now…I'm coming back like I deserve to be pitied."

"It's not pity," Kurt corrected quickly. "It's not pity that you have from me, and it isn't what you need. You just need a friend; you just need someone who loves you."

Blaine's brow furrowed quizzically. "You…what?"

Kurt looked uncomfortable, and he shifted on the bed. "I…I mean that…" He looked at Blaine with wide blue eyes. His startled look morphed into a smile. "I mean that I love you," he repeated strongly. "I love you."

Blaine looked at him as if he couldn't believe his ears. Kurt let out a sigh, as if he'd just gotten a great load off his chest. Moving slowly so that Blaine could back away if he so wished, Kurt moved toward him. Their lips met softly and hesitantly. Kurt could feel the wetness of tears on Blaine's cheek and he reached up his hand to brush a thumb over Blaine's cheek. When he pulled away, Kurt's hand lingered to brush softly through the other teen's short curls.

"I've loved you since you stopped me in the hallway…since I sang that silly Katy Perry song to you in the study hall," Blaine whispered, amber eyes fixed on Kurt's blue ones.

The mention of Katy Perry sent a guilty twang through Kurt's stomach. Almost immediately, he resolved that he had to tell Blaine what happened right now, as he should have the very first time he sang with Jordan backstage at the theatre. "This probably isn't the best time," Kurt started hesitantly, "but I sang with Jordan again…after practice today."

Blaine didn't speak, but his face was guarded once more. "We almost…" Kurt hesitated, hating that he had to say this out loud. "We almost kissed, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to pretend like that when I was in love with someone else." He smiled carefully at Blaine. "You."

"What did he do?" Blaine asked quietly.

"He walked away," Kurt said, still hardly believing it. "He said that I had better not let you go."

Blaine let out a small gasp of disbelief. "He said that?"

"I know, I can hardly believe it myself and I was there."

The shorter boy nodded contemplatively. "Then…do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Plan on letting me go?"

Kurt smiled. "No. No, I don't."

He pressed forward against Blaine's lips again. Nothing but the music from Kurt's radio met their ears, and hearing the song that began to play, Blaine smiled against Kurt's lips. "This song," he murmured.

Kurt drew back, grinning at Blaine in return. "It's perfect," he completed.

In answer, Blaine began to sing along with the lyrics softly.

_I should tell you, I'm a disaster_

_I forget how to begin it_

Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand as he began to sing. He didn't know the ins and outs of what happened at the Anderson household, but in spite of the tears he had shed, Blaine no longer looked quite as downtrodden as he had before. This thought in mind, Kurt sang the second half of the duet.

_Let's just make this part go faster_

_I have yet to be in it_

_I should tell you_

Alternatingly, they repeated the song's main line,

_I sho__uld tell you_

_I should tell you_

_I should tell you_

Kurt moved closer to Blaine.

_I should tell, I blew the candle out_

_Just to get back in_

Blaine lifted a hand to draw it gently against Kurt's cheek.

_I'd forgotten how to smile_

_Until your candle burnt my skin_

_(I should tell you)_

_I should tell you_

_(I should tell you)_

Kurt grabbed Blaine's hands and stood as they began to sing in unison, then alternatively.

_I should tell_

_Well, here we go now, we –_

_(Oh no)_

_I know, this something is_

_Here goes_

_(Here goes)_

_Guess so, it's starting to_

_Who knows?_

_(Who knows?)_

Once more, their voices twined together. Kurt had pulled Blaine to a blank patch of floor and into his arms, so that they were rocking together in a slow dance.

_Who knows where?_

_Who goes there?_

_Who knows?_

_Here goes_

_Trusting desire, starting to learn_

_Walking through fire without a burn_

_Clinging, a shoulder, a leap begins_

_Stinging and older, asleep on pins_

_So here we go_

Blaine reached his head upward slightly to catch Kurt's lips with his, muffling their next words. When he drew away, he was smiling feebly, which sent sad but hopeful shoots into Kurt's stomach.

_Who knows where?_

_Who goes there?_

_Here goes, here goes_

_Here goes, here goes_

_Here goes, here goes_

Kurt leaned against Blaine in silence for a few comfortable moments before speaking. "I'm glad you picked here to come to," he told Blaine.

"It was the first place I thought of," Blaine informed him.

"Come down to dinner?" Kurt squeezed his hand lightly.

"Of course," Blaine answered. As he followed Kurt downstairs once more, he tried not to dwell on what he'd have to face come the light of tomorrow.

* * *

Blaine gladly took the place Burt offered him in the couch, with a promise that he would find a more permanent home as soon as he could. Both Burt and Carole were quick to assure him that he had a place there for as long as he needed.

The next morning, Kurt and Blaine drove down to Dalton together. When they walked up to Mrs. Alcott's classroom, they found that the woman was in the hallway pacing. She looked up and moved forward when she saw them.

"Mrs. Alcott?" Blaine asked hesitantly. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she said, looking away momentarily. "I was just…" She cleared her throat and held her head up a little higher. "No use lingering about in the hallway now boys, you're almost late." She gestured them inside; Kurt and Blaine obliged, but not without sharing a confused look.

* * *

The rest of the class, and the day, proceeded as usual. Kurt smiled hesitantly at Jordan as they sat down, and was rewarded with a smile and shrug of the shoulders from the older boy. Warbler practice was as unexciting as usual, so late in the year. The only off thing about the day was how Kurt would sometimes catch Blaine staring sadly into the distance. At those times, he'd nudge Blaine's shoulder and offer an encouraging smile.

After Mrs. Alcott – Oliver was, once again, not present – dismissed the Warblers, Jordan stopped Kurt and Blaine on their way out. "Wait a minute, will you?" Jordan asked them. Too shocked to ask why, they halted their departure.

He didn't say anything, even after the lingering students trailed away. "Jordan," Kurt prompted, exchanging a curious glance with Blaine.

"I'm not quite sure why I stopped you," Jordan said contemplatively, his back facing them. "Only that I know I have to say something – anything – and I want it to be to both of you." He paused for so long that Kurt began to contemplate saying something else, but before he could, Jordan finally spoke. "I got into Julliard."

"That's great," Blaine said sincerely. "But…honestly not such a surprise, to be perfectly honest."

When Jordan turned toward them, it was with a wry grin and a reluctant appreciative look at Blaine. "No, it wasn't much of a surprise. That means I'm leaving Ohio after I graduate in a couple months."

Kurt bit his lip uncertainly. This couldn't be goodbye yet…was Jordan expecting him to proactively lament the fact that he was going to be out of state?

"Kurt, you said that deep down, I was a good person." Kurt nodded, remembering his remark. Jordan alternated eye contact between the two. "But I never was, not really. I think that the only person I'm really ever proactively kind to is my younger sister. Other than that, it's usually only when it suits me best; that's one of the many unfortunate things I inherited from my parents, I suppose. _God_ knows why, but I found myself wanting to be kind to you, even if that meant…" His eyes lit on Blaine.

Jordan smiled wryly. "I also used to think that I was good with words," he crossed the room and took a guitar from the stand, "but all three of us know that plain words never do emotions justice." He strummed the instrument experimentally. "This song is for you – both of you."

Kurt looked at Jordan in disbelief as he began playing. He exchanged yet another disbelieving look with Blaine before returning his gaze to the senior.

Jordan sang in a heartbreakingly sincere voice,

_So I look in your direction_

_But you pay me no attention, do you?_

_I know you don't listen to me_

'_Cause you say you see straight through me, don't you?_

_And on and on_

_From the moment I wake to the moment I sleep_

_I'll be there by your side, just you try and stop me_

_I'll be waiting in line, just to see if you care_

The sapphire-eyes Warbler looked up from where his eyes had been fixed on the ground. Kurt realized with a small shock that Jordan was actually _smiling_.

_Oh, did you want me to change?_

_Well, I changed for good_

_I want you to know that you'll always get your way_

_I wanted to say_

_Don't you shiver, shiver, shiver_

_I'll always be waiting for you_

Blaine couldn't help it; he was beaming at the older boy. There were times when, if he knew the lyrics, he couldn't help but join in. This was one of those times. Blaine took a step toward Jordan as he sang along for the next lines. Blaine's action shocked Jordan into stunned silence, though his fingers still moved along the strings.

_So you know how much I need you?_

_But you never even see me, do you?_

_And is this my final chance of getting you?_

_But on and on_

_From the moment I wake to the moment I sleep_

_I'll be there by your side, just you try and stop me_

_I'll be waiting in line, just to see if you care – if you care…_

Kurt watched with slackened jaw as Blaine stepped toward Jordan and sung. He stayed where he was – if this wasn't a dream, he wanted to catch it in his memory perfectly. Jordan was still smiling, and he kept it up even when Blaine hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder. The smile didn't come off Jordan's face as he resumed control of the song.

_Oh, did you want me to change?_

_Well, I changed for good_

_And I want you to know that you'll always get your way_

_I wanted to say_

_Don't you shiver _

_Don't you shiver, shiver_

_I'll always be waiting for you_

He plucked a few more notes before finishing. Now that he wasn't singing, Jordan suddenly looked unsure of himself. "Well…that's it," he said finally.

Kurt didn't know what to say; Blaine took charge. "I guess," he said teasingly, "Kurt was right: you are a good person, somewhere deep down."

Jordan was well-spirited enough to take the joke. "It just takes a little unearthing," he replied.

"In all seriousness though," Blaine said, suddenly looking pensive. "I have to apologize to you. I was…_extremely_ quick to judge. Before I'd even properly met you, my mind had been made up. I, of all people, should have realized that everyone has their own problems to deal with, and their own way to handle them."

"An apology that should be returned," Jordan said civilly. "I gave you reason to dislike me."

"_Well then_," Kurt said finally. "This was…unexpected and incredibly cheesy in equal measures, but long overdue." Jordan rolled his eyes, Blaine chuckled, and all three of them began to walk to the door.

Blaine was about to say something when his phone rang. "It's my mom," he whispered, to Jordan's confusion. Blaine's eyes met Kurt's. "Should I?"

"Answer it," Kurt said with a nod. "Definitely answer it."

When he let the call through, Blaine's mother's voice tumbled through the line loud enough for all three of them to hear: "_Blaine, where are you right now? Did you have Warbler practice today? Are you still at school? Please tell me that you've already left – please."_

"No, I'm here. Mom, what…what are you on about?"

_"I couldn't stop it, Blaine. I couldn't stop it, before or now. The doctors, they told me to keep alcohol out of the house. I thought that he would never find it. It's my fault…"_

"What's happening…?" Jordan's sentence trailed off, and he stopped in his tracks in the middle of the hallway.

"Jordan…Blaine?" Kurt asked, his breath shallow. Kurt's heart seemed to sink straight through his feet as he saw what had made Jordan stop. "Mr. Anderson," he whispered. "What's going on?"

"You," Blaine's father said, face twisting as he pointed a shaking finger at Kurt. "He went to you yesterday, didn't he? That pandering idiot you call a father just let him in to your house."

"H-how do you know that?" Blaine asked, his eyes wide and his phone completely forgotten.

"Never mind that," Cayden said, taking long strides toward the trio. "It's your fault – you, Hummel, it has to be your fault. He even said it, that shrink was your idea."

"_Do not_," Blaine said sharply. "Do not touch him. You told me to 'fix' myself or get out, so I left."

"You weren't supposed to leave," Cayden said, clearly distressed. "You were supposed to get the message. I don't want you to leave. I just want my son back. I want a _regular_ son, and you can't be normal if you keep hanging around _those_ types."

"Those types," Jordan whispered softly.

"Don't," Kurt warned, suddenly realizing Jordan had no background for what was going on.

"_Don't_," Blaine's father repeated, alcohol making him act even more erratically. "As in, _don't_ bother sticking up for him, because he knows he's unnatural." Cayden began to move toward Kurt.

In an act that surprised both Kurt, who was paralyzed with fear, and Blaine, who was likewise so, Jordan moved to stand in front of Kurt. "You can't harm him," Jordan said, voice stronger than he looked. His sapphire eyes moved to observe Blaine's frightened expression. "Blaine either – I won't let you."

"You won't let me?" Cayden asked with a sneer. "That sounds likely." With surprising speed for someone so intoxicated, he reached forward and grabbed Jordan, one hand in his shirt and the other around his throat.

Jordan's hands immediately rose to claw at the hand that began to cut off his air supply. Panicked sapphire eyes, unknowing of anything but what had been a desire to protect his peers, went between Blaine and Kurt in panic.

"Choose," Cayden commanded Kurt icily, his son all but forgotten. "I know you can. Choose to be normal, and I'll let him go. If you choose that, it means Blaine can, too."

Kurt shook his head, completely disbelieving of what was happening. This wasn't a matter of intoxication, or anger issues. It hit him with sudden clarity that Blaine's father was completely and totally unstable – unstable and dangerous. He didn't notice that Blaine had begun to slowly move until he was coming back out of the music hall, behind his father, a guitar in his hand.

Blaine's hand shook as it gripped the guitar. He knew what he was going to do with it; he _had_ to. The brief, horrible thought crossed his mind that he didn't even _like_ Jordan, but he quickly and guiltily chased it away. In the last ten minutes alone, Jordan had proven himself to be fifty times the man Blaine had ever suspected.

If he was fifty times the man Blaine thought himself to be, Jordan – who was now sputtering and choking – was certainly _more_ than fifty times the man standing in front of him right now, the one he called father. Hands still shaking and hating what he was about to do, Blaine raised the guitar over his head. His eyes briefly met Kurt's, and the countertenor nodded.

Cayden had seen the shift in Kurt's look, but by the time he went to turn around, it was too late. Blaine had brought the guitar down on his own father's head. The wood cracked and splintered, and Cayden crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.

Jordan fell to the ground and rolled away, gasping and rubbing his throat. Blaine had given a little cry when the guitar had made contact. He dropped it now, and he looked at his father's still body, caught somewhere between horror and relief. Kurt's hand has risen to his mouth in shock when he saw the scene play out before him, even though he had known what Blaine was going to do before he performed the action. The countertenor stumbled over his own feet as he moved backward, until he hit something unmovable, presumably the wall.

The three stood there in complete silence, but not one minute had passed before sirens came screeching into the Dalton parking lot. In a flurry of moments later, a crowd of men in uniform flooded into the hall. Startled, Kurt turned to move toward Blaine only to see the other boy being tugged away by many pairs of hands. He watched in horror as the officers wrenched Blaine's arms around behind him.

Kurt turned to Jordan, as if he could get him to help in assisting Blaine, but he quickly saw that men in EMT uniforms were crowded around the older boy. Kurt barely had time to wonder how so many different public service personnel were able to get there so quickly before he was addressed: "Excuse me? Are you a witness to this event?"

The shocked teen didn't even grace the other person with an answer. He brushed off their light touch and walked quickly toward Blaine. "Let him go," Kurt said in a voice that sounded much stronger than he felt. "It wasn't him…it was…" His eyes flicked over to Cayden's body, still passed out.

The jaw of the oldest officer clenched, and he was about to retort when another voice spoke: "Listen to him." Kurt's ears perked up, and from the disbelief etched on Blaine's face, the other boy recognized that voice too. "You can release the boy. Blaine," Oliver Alcott continued, steadying Blaine as he was released and tried to walk forward on still-wobbly legs. "Take it easy. I've got you."

"Mr. Alcott?" Kurt asked. "Are you…I mean, you're a _cop_?"

Oliver smiled good-naturedly. "Ah…an investigator." It was only then that Kurt noticed he wore a suit and not the standard officer issued uniform. "I passed the tests and got promoted to investigator this year. You look shocked…what, you thought I ran glee club for a living?"

"Well…no, not really," Kurt floundered. "Mrs. Alcott mentioned that there were times you couldn't get away from work, but I never thought…"

"You've been missing practice," Blaine said. "You missed our competition."

Oliver smiled ruefully. "Investigator hours are harder to manage than that of an officer. Sorry about that, boys. But I have been watching you. They tasked me with making sure you were safe."

"You've been _watching_ me?" Blaine repeated. His face darkened. "That means you know about my father…and what he used to do. What he does."

"You don't think that they would just let everything proceed as normal, did you? We had to make sure that nothing happened to you after your father came back." His mouth pressed into a tight line. "Good thing, too."

"That's how you got here so fast," Blaine muttered.

"Actually," Oliver continued. "We had a call about that, a sort of tip-off, if you will. She wouldn't tell us her name but she was very adamant that we come here, to Dalton Academy, and make sure the students still on the grounds were safe."

"What are you going to do to him?" Kurt asked. His question was spurred by movement in Cayden's direction. He'd been restrained and the movements had woken him up. He didn't speak, but he glared darkly in the direction of the three men.

Oliver glanced at Blaine before answering Kurt's question. "Well…I'm afraid that it gets very simple from here, not like the first time. He's broken a type of parole. We granted clemency and it was abused. There isn't an excuse for that."

"But we haven't even told you what happened," Kurt pointed out.

"There's a boy with large fingerprint marks around his neck, too large to be made by either of you. All three of you look frightened half to death. There was a grown, unconscious man on the ground surrounded by fragmented wood and a guitar punctured by a head-sized hole." The corner of his mouth quirked upward. "It isn't difficult to surmise. Nonetheless, you should follow us to the station for further accounts. I suppose they'll want to do an official write-up."

Oliver beckoned for the boys to follow, and walked toward the parking lot. In their wake, three officers accompanied Cayden. "This car," Kurt said as Oliver approached a dark blue car with equally dark windows. "I've seen it before. You were outside Blaine's house."

Oliver smiled down at them both. "I told you that I had been watching." He motioned for Cayden and the officers to get into the vehicle. "I'll meet you two at the station." He quickly got into the car and drove off.

Kurt stared off after the dark car. His faraway mind was jogged into the moment by the feeling of Blaine reaching out and grabbing his hand. Kurt returned the grip, glad for the comfort it provided. "Jordan," Kurt muttered, suddenly remembering the injured boy.

He and Blaine walked quickly toward the solitary ambulance in the lot, where Jordan was being coaxed onto a stretcher. "I do not need this thing; get it away from me," Jordan complained as strong hands pulled him onto the bed. "I'm perfectly fine. I – ah! That hurt, you oaf." He glared at the person who'd tried to pull down his shirt collar to get a better look at the dark bruises cropping up on his neck.

Jordan's glare softened when he saw Kurt and Blaine. "Tell them I'm fine!"

"You're not fine," Blaine said flatly. "Believe me, of all people, Jordan, I know." That shut the diva up. He nodded once and stopped struggling.

"They'll take care of you," Kurt said, even though the words came out hollow. "Let me know if they make you stay at the hospital. We'll visit." The proposal was half-hearted and all three of them knew it.

After Jordan left, Kurt and Blaine wordlessly agreed not to leave immediately. They walked over to the large expanse of grass near the parking lot, almost the exact same place where Blaine had told Kurt they'd be better off apart. They sat together on the grass, not talking for five, ten, fifteen minutes.

Finally, Kurt broke the silence. "None of this is your fault." He might have thought of a million things to say that were better than that, but they all escaped him in the moment. "You did the right thing, Blaine. After everything that's happened to you, you still do the right thing. That's something to be proud of."

Blaine didn't reply verbally. Instead, he turned in toward Kurt and wrapped his arms around the other teen tightly. His cheek pressed into Kurt's shoulder, and the countertenor rubbed reassuring circle patterns onto his back. The harsh ring of Blaine's cell phone ruined the moment. "My mom again," Blaine muttered. "She'll know everything by now. I'd better answer."

Just as Kurt nodded, his own cell phone vibrated. "I don't know the number," he said as Blaine looked at him curiously. "That's weird. I might as well…"

He flipped his phone open just as Blaine said, "Mom?"

_"K-Kurt?"_ The female voice on the other line wavered as it spoke.

"Yes…who is this?"

_ "It's Bri…Mrs. Alcott. This is Mrs. Alcott."_

"Mrs. Alcott," Kurt said, a sense of foreboding growing in his stomach. Her voice shot lines of nervousness through his veins. It was wavering and weak and it sounded as if she'd just had a good cry. "Are you alright?"

_"No."_ Her voice broke and a soft sob escaped as she spoke.

"Mrs. Alcott," Kurt repeated in distress. He didn't know what to say to get her to speak. Thankfully – or not so – she didn't need much coercion.

_"I-I'm okay. It isn't me."_ He heard her sniffle halfheartedly. _"Kurt, please…come to the hospital. Oliver's car…there was an accident."_

For a brief moment, Kurt didn't understand. "Blaine's father," he said quietly.

_ "Just come, and hurry."_

Kurt whirled around to face Blaine. His mother had called…one look at Blaine's face told Kurt that the other boy already knew. "We'll be there in a minute," he said before snapping his phone closed.

* * *

_I Should Tell You - Roger and Mimi (R.E.N.T.)_

_Shiver - Coldplay (Additionally, I'd never heard the original of this song before. I got the idea to include it by becoming obsessed with Cameron Mitchell's version :D)_

* * *

_A/N: One more chapter after this and this (long) story will be finished! I can hardly believe it! Any guesses for what happens in the finale? :D_

_Thanks for reading!_


	23. Chapter 23 :: Afterglow

_A/N: Hi guys! So...I always apologize for not updating for so long and this is no exception. I always take on too many stories and end up not being able to completely manage them all at one time...buuuut that won't be a problem with this story anymore! :D This is the last chapter and finale of this story! Coincidentally, it ended up being EXACTLY 200 pages in Word...seriously, a few more words and it would have been 201 pages :D HOW PERFECT IS THAT?_

_So, a little reminder because I know if I was reading a story that hadn't been updated in this long, I'd have totally forgotten what was happening:_

_Jordan, Kurt, and Blaine reached a sort of truce after school when Jordan sang them "Shiver". Immediately after that, they ran into Blaine's father in the hall. Blaine was faced with a choice - Jordan or his father - and he chose to side with Jordan, knocking his father out so that he wouldn't hurt Jordan. An anonymous caller called the police and they showed up a few moments later. At the end of the chapter, Kurt got a call from Bridgette Alcott asking him to come to the hospital quickly. Okay, now you're all caught up!_

_Enjoy this last chapter!_

* * *

_Several months later_

Blaine and Kurt stood together on the grass. In front of them stood a crowd of people, and beyond that, a box. "You don't have to do this, you know," Kurt said, eyes fixed on the somber crowd of people.

"I do," Blaine said. His fingers tapped lightly against the guitar at his side. Kurt hadn't asked why he'd brought it. He figured that he would find out sooner or later.

Kurt took a deep breath. "I know you do."

A few months ago, after Kurt had gotten the phone call, they'd gone straight to the hospital. Mrs. Alcott had greeted them in the front room.

_ "Oliver," she started, grabbing their hands and pulling them into the hospital room. "His police car…someone didn't stop at the red light."_

_ "My dad was in that car," Blaine said quietly. His gaze fixed on Mrs. Alcott's. "My dad…"_

_ Mrs. Alcott's lips pursed. "The doctors want to talk to you, Blaine."_

_ Startled, Kurt turned to look at Blaine, who only nodded stiffly and walked after the doctor that she had motioned to. After gaping after his back for a few moments, Kurt turned back to his teacher – who was feeling more like a friend over the past few months. "Mr. Alcott?" Kurt asked. "Is he…is he alright?"_

_ "He'll be fine," Bridgette said, setting herself onto a seat and patting the one next to her for Kurt. "He's banged up but he'll be fine. The car hit the back half of his car…drunk driver. Blaine's father got the worst of it." _

_ For a long moment, Kurt and Bridgette held eye contact. A sort of mutual understanding and shame was passing between them. Both of them were glad that it had been Oliver who had gotten off easy. Oliver, who was so good-natured, who had a wife, who was young, who would probably be starting a family. Both of them were shamefully relieved that it had been Blaine's father who had left the accident for worse – Kurt wasn't sure how bad yet. Blaine's father, who was abusive to his son and wife, who had already been in rehabilitation, who had been arrested twice…and, as Kurt found out a few moments later, would never be able to hurt Blaine again. In the most shameful, self-loathing way, Kurt found that he was almost glad Blaine would be, for lack of a better phrase, free._

_ "They just needed Blaine to identify the body," Bridgette whispered. She reached up and patted the back of Kurt's hand. "Kurt…I know that Blaine has been through a lot this past year. I know that he hasn't been the easiest to deal with. I know that you've been hurt, in all senses, by what's been happening. For everyone else it's all over. For Blaine, it isn't. He'll need you now, more than ever."_

_ "I know," Kurt whispered in turn, smiling up at her. "I'll be there."_

_ Before Bridgette could respond, the hospital door swung open. Blaine's mother stood there. Her eyes immediately fixated on Kurt, and she approached him. "Blaine?" she asked. Her eyes were anxious._

_ Suddenly, puzzle pieces clicked together in Kurt's mind. "He's fine," he confirmed. "He's talking to the doctors. You could probably go back there if you asked." She shook her head but didn't speak. "It was you, wasn't it?" Kurt asked. "It was you. You called the police."_

_ She smiled almost sadly. "I just hope," she started, "that a decision to take a stand is better made late than never."_

At Cayden's funeral, Kurt and Blaine finally took their seats among the crowd. Jordan sat a few people away, and Bridgette and Oliver were also among the people present. The priest said his bit, but Kurt's head was buzzing too much to register it. The past year had been surreal, like something out of a movie. Here it all was, coming to a close.

"If I may," Blaine said, shocking Kurt back to the present. "I just have one thing that I need to do." He stood and faced the small group of people. "My father wasn't…at his best near the end of his life," Blaine began, voice not wavering. "But that doesn't mean I can't remember when he was. I remember a lot things that I'll never forget." His fingers strummed a few notes. "These songs are completely different…but only both of them together make them perfect." From there, he started to sing.

_Here I am, lost in the light of the moon that comes through my window_

_Bathed in blue, the walls of my memory divide the thorns from the roses_

_It's no stretch to say you were not quite a father… now it's you and the roses_

_As I let you go I will find my way…_

_Now I'm living in your afterglow_

Kurt didn't dare to breathe as he watched Blaine sing. He could hardly believe that he was doing what he was, but perhaps it was just something he needed to do to move on. Perhaps he needed closure.

Blaine looked up as he sung. The crowd was dead silent. Every pair of eyes was fixed on him and more than a few jaws were dropped. His mother's eyes were watering but she had a strange smile on her face, Kurt looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and when he looked at Jordan, the older boy tipped up his head in a nod. His voice shook slightly as he started singing again. He recognized the aggression in the words, but his voice was frail.

_You're a disgrace…to the concept of family_

_The priest won't divulge that fact in his homily_

_And I'll stand up and scream if the mourning remains quiet_

_You can deck out a lie in a suit but I won't buy it_

_I won't join in the procession that's speaking their peace_

_Using five-dollar words while praising his integrity_

_Just 'cause he's gone it doesn't change the fact_

_He was a bastard in life…thus a bastard in death…_

Blaine's hands shook as he continued to strum. He daren't look up at the people watching him now. Unbidden, the first tear he'd shed dripped down his cheek.

_As I let you go I will find my way, I will sacrifice_

_Now I'm living…_

Nobody clapped – it would have seemed improper. He priest touched Blaine's shoulder and motioned for him to sit. Instead of sitting, he walked away. Blaine touched his mom's hand as he passed her, nodded reassuringly at Kurt, and leaned his guitar against his seat, but he kept walking until he could barely see the tent, and there were many graves between him and his father.

Blaine sat on the grass for a while, picking out the blades and trying to whistle with them. When a sharp whistle came from behind him, Blaine turned around. Jordan stood there smiling. He waved a blade of grass at Blaine. "Takes practice and years of boredom," he said.

"You didn't have to come," Blaine said, nodding at the grass next to him.

Jordan shook his head and remained standing. "I wanted to come. In the least traditional sense of the word…we've kind of been friends…ever since…"

"I guess we have," Blaine said, smiling in spite of himself. "Graduation is tomorrow isn't it?"

"Yep," Jordan affirmed. "Then I'm off to New York."

"We might never see each other again."

"We will," Jordan said with such confidence that Blaine's eyebrows rose in a silent question and he got to his feet. "You're coming to New York next year right? You and Kurt?"

Blaine's smile grew bigger. "Hopefully," he said. "Kurt's been acting kind of strange ever since…well, you know."

"He doesn't want to break you," Jordan said with a wry smile.

"How do you know that?"

"We've been talking a little bit," Jordan said with a shrug. "Innocent, I promise. He just needed to talk to someone else on the outside who understood everything. He thinks you're fragile. He doesn't want to mess it up."

"He said all that?" Blaine asked quietly. It didn't even occur to him to question Jordan's confirmation that their talks had been innocent. His relationship or lack thereof with Kurt seemed so beyond concern now.

"That's the condensed version," Jordan said. "_Ultra-_condensed. You're all he talks about."

"Wow," Blaine said, looking away into the trees that surrounded the cemetery.

"Anyways, I came over here because I have something to say," Jordan said. Blaine nodded for him to continue. As it turned out, he didn't exactly have something that he wanted to say.

_I ain't looking to compete with you_

_Beat or cheat or mistreat you_

_Simplify you, classify you_

_Deny, defy, or crucify you_

_All I really want to do is, baby, be friends with you._

_No, and I ain't looking to fight with you_

_Frighten you or tighten you_

_Drag you down or drain you down_

_Chain you down or bring you down_

_All I really want to do is, baby, be friends with you._

Blaine let out a chuckle and shook his head. "What?" Jordan asked, laughing along with him. "That surprising, is it?"

_I ain't looking to block you up, shock or knock or lock you up_

_Analyze you, categorize you_

_Finalize you or advertise you_

_All I really want to do is, baby, be friends with you_

_I don't want to straight-face you_

_Race or chase you, track or trace you_

_Or disgrace you or displace you_

_Of define you or confine you_

_All I really want to do is, baby, be friends with you_

_I don't want to fake you out_

_Take or shake or forsake you out_

_I ain't looking for you to feel like me_

_See like me of be like me_

_All I really want to do is, baby, friends with you_

Jordan finished and held up his hands in a question.

Blaine looked at him for a few moments. "Complete shit," he said, although his laughter and joking tone of voice gave his true feelings away.

"Look me up in New York, Blaine," Jordan said, suddenly surprisingly serious.

"I will," Blaine promised.

"I'm serious," Jordan stressed. "Don't hesitate. I'll see you around, I guess?"

"I think so," Blaine said with a small smile. In mutual understanding, Jordan held out his arms and Blaine went to him for a few moments, trying to ignore the weird voice in the back of his head that laughed at the fact that he was hugging Jordan Aaron.

"Kurt said he wanted to stay up there until it was over," Jordan said, looking over at the tent. "Which looks to be about now."

"Do you want to wait for him?"

"No," said Jordan with a smile and a shake of his head. "I'd better get going. My little sister is with a sitter for a bit but I'd better get home."

"Your parents are gone again?" Blaine asked. In the last few months, his own parental situation was one thing Jordan had shared with Blaine.

"Yeah," Jordan said shortly, "again. I guess I have it easy." He grinned, humorlessly and understandingly, at Blaine. "Tell Kurt I say goodbye."

Blaine nodded. Jordan walked away to the parking lot and Blaine looked back up at the crowd of dispersing people, wondering if he should make his way back. Before he could make up his mind, a figure approached him, holding his guitar. He guessed who it was before he came into focus.

"Thanks," he said, smiling at Kurt almost shyly as he came within hearing distance. Kurt held up one finger in a motion of silence. Blaine began to smile widely, sharing Kurt's conspiratorial look in spite of their morose surroundings, the goodbye he'd just said, and the difficult song he'd just sung. Without warning, Kurt began his own.

_Hold on…the evening's not quite through_

_It seems you've lost this_

_May I return it now to you?_

_Tonight your music meant much more than you could know._

_So, I'd just like to say one thing to you before you go_

Blaine's head tipped curiously at this boy who was singing to him so heartfelt. He hadn't been appalled at Blaine's song. He wasn't walking away. "_Kurt_," he asked softly, for he knew what Kurt had begun to sing, and it wasn't a solo. "_What are you doing?"_

Upon confirmation of Blaine's playing along, Kurt smiled widely and continued.

_I thought I'd spend my life alone because my feelings felt so wrong_

_But now I've got the strength to be myself since I heard you sing your song_

_I'm a sort of charming, somewhat handsome, not so princely guy_

_Who wants desperately to be with you if you'd only let me try_

_So tell me, sometime do you think we could fall in love? How about this Sunday? _

_Or is tomorrow soon enough? How about tonight then?_

_Although I tell you, I don't see how I'm going to last that long if we don't fall in love right now_

_I know your heart is in a million broken pieces on the floor_

_I'll be happy to collect them all, that's what friends are for_

_You've taken care of everyone, that's always how it's been_

_Well it's time someone took care of you, but you have to let them in_

_So tell me, sometime do you think we could fall in love? How about this Sunday? _

_Or is tomorrow soon enough? How about tonight then? _

_Although I tell you, I don't see how I'm going to last that long if we don't fall in love right now_

Kurt handed over Blaine's guitar but Blaine put it to the side, not wanting to take his eyes off of Kurt. The song was strangely fitting. Kurt was his Tank. He'd always been there, even when nobody else was. When no one else understood him, or accepted him, Kurt did. He thought that he was less suited to Zanna's stylistic choices than Kurt was, but Blaine started singing anyway.

_There you were, always right in front of me_

_So close to my heart, I simply couldn't see_

_There I was, making all sorts of mistakes_

_ "Hey!" _Kurt sang._ "That's okay. Sometimes that's just what it takes."_

_ "You've always played our songs for everyone else, and they're on key."_

_ "But maybe," _Kurt sang as he reached out and took Blaine's hand._ "Now we'll get to play one just for you and me."_ They finished the song, voices twining together.

_So tell me, sometime do think we could fall in love? How about this Sunday?_

_Or is tomorrow soon enough? How about tonight then?_

_Although I tell you I don't see how…_

…_I'm going to last that long…_

_Because I'm falling in love right now_

As their song faded off, Kurt and Blaine were quiet for a moment. "Thank you," Blaine said quietly.

"For what?" Kurt asked, just as quiet. His thumb began softly stroking the back of Blaine's hand.

"For everything. For always being there. For still being here."

Kurt smiled and used their interlocked hands to pull Blaine closer. "Just warning you," he said, forehead pressing up against Blaine's and a smile stretching across his lips. "I'm going to kiss you right now."

"Please." Blaine had gotten out the word and half of a laugh before Kurt's mouth softly pressed against his. He felt Kurt's arms reach across his shoulders and behind his neck, pulling them closer. A rising bubble of happiness rose within Blaine's chest like a little bubble of hope that would never burst. Feeling, for once, perfect, Blaine smiled into the kiss and pulled Kurt closer.

* * *

_Afterglow/Styrofoam Plates (self-made mash-up..please, don't judge) - INXS/Death Cab for Cutie_

_All I Want To Do - Bob Dylan_

_Sometime Do You Think We Could Fall In Love? - Tank and Zanna (Zanna, Don't!)_

* * *

_ A/N: Well, that's it! I hope you liked how it ended - kinda bittersweet ^^ Please, let me know what you thought of it now that it's at the end!_

_Thanks for reading this whole thing! I know that there are some of you who have been leaving reviews since the first few chapters - I'm impressed :D Adios, mi amores! :3 _


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